


A Better Place

by nofox



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Boxing & Fisticuffs, Car Chases, Dark Comedy, Duelling, Gangsters, Greaser Hana "D.Va" Song, Greasers, Las Vegas, Love Triangles, Multi, Musical References, Platonic Relationships, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:44:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofox/pseuds/nofox
Summary: Sombra pays McCree a visit to find him crushed by his recent breakup with Hanzo. Finding him immune to her manipulative wiles and his post-breakup lifestyle intolerable, she decides to help get them back together in her own way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blow up my shit on tumblr: [link](https://sombrobro.tumblr.com/). I want to start doing requests so hmu. Leave a comment or a like so I don't kill myself

It was night. A long empty stretch of West Texas highway unfolded underneath the high beams of Sombra’s purple spyder. After hours of driving, the only radio station around was a fuzzy pirate signal playing a galloping tune by a long forgotten Texas garage band. This particular song was cold and atmospheric, littered with sonic paraphernalia: whiplashes and deep breaths over the echoing of a forlorn guitar solo. It put Sombra in an introspective mood. She opened her hand and projected a GPS map. The hologram’s glow reflected across her blue eyes as she drove. She was getting close.

Sombra decelerated as she neared her destination a dirt road marked by a wooden “Keep Out” sign nailed to a cactus and all too appropriately riddled with bullet holes. The song began to fuzz out becoming unrecognizable. She shut off the radio. All she could hear now was the sound of her roadster's hover coils.

The road gave way to a strange sight: a naked man illuminated by the headlights of a parked four by four holding a fifth of something or another in one hand and a massive revolver in the other. He swore and cussed as he fired live ammunition into a helpless cactus in the distance.

The unusual man turned towards the blinding light of Sombra’s car, covering his eyes with his revolver hand as she approached.

“What in the hell?” he muttered.

Sombra grabbed her machine pistol and stepped out of the convertible, marching towards the absurd scene.

“Hey! This is private property!” the naked man raved as loud as he could while still being able to keep his cigarette in his mouth, “go on, git the hell out of here! Can’t you see I’m busy?!”

He noticed the silhouette of a gun in the hand of the shadow approaching him and dropped the fifth at his feet.

“Aw, hell no,” he spat as he flopped his pistol towards the advancing figure, “I’m givin’ you one warnin’”

“Hello, McCree.”

He recognized the smokey seductive voice immediately.

“Sombra? What the hell you doin’ out here? How did you find me?”

“You know I never tell,” she replied with her usual air of superiority. McCree shrugged. What else did he expect? He knew he looked like an asshole. Sombra sauntered towards him with her confident strut. “Jesse, I should ask what in the hell _you’re_ doing out here,” she said, barely containing her amusement.

“Workin’ out some feelings...” He pointed his gun at the cactus. “Fella’s been pushin’ me the last few days, I figured it was time I teach him a lesson ‘er six.” He fired his revolver and the tip top of the cactus broke off.

Sombra swayed her shoulders in amusement and cocked her head. “I think you’ve finally lost it, Jesse.”

“Now listen here darlin’," he replied, pointing at her rudely, "where do you get off on criticizin’ me fer losin’ it? Last I saw you, you were half-naked n’ lookin’ two sandwiches short of a picnic yerself.”

Sombra blinked then slowly leveled her gaze between Jesse’s legs.

“Call it even,” she said flatly, keeping her eyes on his flaccid penis, “so, what happened, Jesse?”

McCree suddenly sat in front of her cross-legged in the rough desert sand and bawled. “Aw, hell, its Hanzo! He ditched me fer’ some fella he says has his life together!”

Sombra blinked a few times before looking off to the side impatiently.  _OK..._ she thought _._ After a few awkward moments she decided it would be best to sit and delicately pick the massive revolver out of the bawling cowboy's hand. Upon tossing it aside, McCree unexpectedly flung his arms around her torso and cried into her breast, muttering incoherently about Hanzo between his tears.

Sombra reluctantly pat his back.

“Um, Jesse, I’m not so good at like comforting people,” she said lifting his head.

“Now don’t get yer cows runnin’, I’m just havin’ a bad day is all,” he replied wiping his eyes.

He sat up, grabbed his fifth and took a long swig. When he was done he exhaled a nasty breath and turned to Sombra, apparently having reset himself.

“So, what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, “actually, lemme me guess. Yer prolly hotter than a two dollar pistol. How many stories do I have uh you crashin’ at my place ‘cause you ran yourself into trouble?”

“No, not this time. I just needed to get away.”

Jesse grinned and unceremoniously searched through Sombra’s spy coat for cigarettes and a lighter. Sombra gave him a look of utter indignation as if he were an annoying younger brother while he helped himself.

“I can tell when yer lyin’ missy, best be honest,” he said lighting his butt. The end of the cigarette burned and crackled as he drew in. “Now there’s a buzz. Haven’t felt that in a while. Where-oh-where can I get me some of these?” he said exhaling and regarding the cigarette.

“Mexico,” she replied flatly.

He deposited the cigarettes back in her coat with a pat.

“Puh,” he muttered dismissively, “now, you were sayin’?”

“I’m taking a break from Talon,” she said layering on the patience, “that’s it.”

“Huh, that’s interestin’, ‘cause I hear they don’t take kindly to quitters. So, you need a place to stay or what?”

Sombra sighed.

“Yes.”

“Well, alright then...” he said then was silent. McCree and Sombra sat quietly as she took her cigarettes out and lit her own. “God damn it!” McCree suddenly cursed, “I just can’t get him outta my head! Did he find out somethin’ about me? Was it the sex?”

“I’ve never seen you like this before...” noted Sombra as she took McCree’s fifth and sniffed it. She recoiled from scent of the high proof alcohol.

“You gotta help me, Sombra!” he said grabbing her coat and shaking her, “you dun’ owe me!”

“OK, OK! _Tranquilízate!_ ” she said trying to push the naked dusty cowboy off of her, “I’ll think about it! Lets just get you back.”

“Sweet baby Jesus, thank you!” He threw himself around her with a hug and bawled with tears of joy. "I miss him so got dang much!" he said descending into incoherent muttering. Eventually, he stopped yammering but Sombra noticed the weight of the cowboy on her body felt dead. She looked over McCree’s back suspiciously then struggled to lift him.

“MCCREE!” she shouted, “you asshole, you passed out!”

“Wh-what?!”

“ _Pinche borracho culero!_ We’re taking you back and you’re drinking fucking water, right now!”

“Heh, best you drive,” he said with a stinko grin.

* * *

They left McCree’s truck and drove further down the dirt path in Sombra’s spyder until they came across a small adobe house with a little satellite dish, the only building for miles in either direction. Sombra elbowed McCree until he was awake.

“This your place?”

McCree sat up in the small purple convertible and gazed at the side of the adobe building under the headlights for a few moments.

“JESSE MCCREE!” Sombra shouted when she realized he'd again fallen asleep.

His eyes shot open. “Yep! Yes! Yes ma’am!”

“You’re the _worst!_ ”

Sombra struggled to support McCree’s drunk—now only semi-nude by being partially covered by a poncho and cowboy hat—body as they walked to the house.

“I call ‘er Skywalker ranch, it ain’t much but its out of the way.”

“Why Skywalker?”

“Dunno, just liked the sound of it, I guess.”

“ _Idiota,_ ” Sombra muttered.

They burst inside the sparsely furnished but messy house. Sombra tried to turn on the lights as she hauled him to his kitchen but there was nothing. The switch simply flicked uselessly.

“Don’t bother, solar battery’s busted. I only get power during the day,” McCree muttered from under his hat.

“So you only have light when you don’t need it, great.”

At the kitchen, McCree poured himself water from a large plastic jug and sucked it down like a fish in front of the sink. Sombra watched with her arms folded.

“How many times have I done this for you?”

“We carry each other, carry each other,” sang McCree drunkenly.

“You're so freaking annoying!” she said pushing him.

He stumbled and collapsed into the corner causing several dirty plates to clatter.

“Heh, while I deserve that,” he muttered, lifting himself up and placing his elbows on the counter top, “it ain’t exactly nice...”

“You know the type of person I am,” she replied unapologetically.

“OK, OK, truce,” he said making a ‘T’ with his hands, “I’ll slow my roll n’ maybe you won’t try and kill me. Let me get some pants.”

Sombra looked around the odd building and sighed as he searched the floor of his living room and changed in front of her. Jesse was completely ill-suited for independent living. His bed was a mattress set up in the middle of his living room, a disassembled engine sat on the kitchen table with spent liquor bottles, bullet casings littered the floor from his bored sporadic shooting, he used his kitchen cabinets to store components for gunsmithing and maintenance. The only decorations were framed posters of John Wayne and Indiana Jones. It reminded Sombra of her place which was barely in a better state.

“ _Lo siento,_ ” she said with another sigh. She put her hand on her hip and gestured to the house. “Jesse, how can you live like this? _This_ is probably why Hanzo broke up with you.”

“He’s never seen it, I always flew to Japan. Costed a fortune, I’ll tell you that. I work my ass off just to see ‘im.”

Sombra shook her head disdainfully at the notion of what passed for McCree’s ‘work.’

“How did you even find this place?”

“Here, lemme show you a thing,” he said sauntering to the sink, “gimme yer lighter.” Sombra stood motionless as a look of tired impatience passed over her face. “Just give it here, I ain’t messin’ with ya.”

She tossed him her lighter. He placed it under the faucet and ran the water. With a flick of the lighter a huge plume of fire shot up from the sink causing Sombra to jump and shout “Jesse!” in alarm.

“Hot damn! Big one this time!” he said jumping back. He tossed her back her lighter as she glared at him in annoyance. “Turns out this place was built by some rich hippy over an old natural gas well. When he found out he sold it to me...” he said lifting a finger with a devious eyebrow raise, “...for one dollar.”

Sombra shook her head and rolled her eyes as McCree stumbled and chuckled drunkenly to himself. “So, where am I sleeping in this death trap?”

“With me, unless you got a problem.” She looked at the mattress in the center of the living room and raised her eyebrows at him. “What?” he asked.

She marched over to the bed and picked up a gold condom wrapper.

“What’s this?” she asked incredulously, "I’ve seen you, you don’t need this."

“Well, they fit, n’ it does a lot fer the fantasy. Boys see that n’ get excited,” he replied swiping it from her hand.

Sombra snickered at him.

“If Hanzo’s never seen this place, who are those for?”

“Look, missy. I been depressed n’ I miss the uptight bastard. I gotta get my yucks somehow.”

Again, Sombra shook her head in utter condescension. “I’m not even going to ask how you manage to lure people in here.”

McCree tossed his hat in a corner and sat on the bed with a grunt.

“I said I’d lay off, now you wanna show some proper respect? I ain’t doin’ great.”

She sat next to him and hugged him around his side.

“Aw, _pobricito_ , you know I love you,” she said affectionately, albeit with a hint of cruelty.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse grumbled, “I know yer brand a’ carin’.”

“Jesse,” she said looking up at him and taking a frank tone, “ _estoy_ _cansado_.”

He pat the top of Sombra’s head and stroked her hair.

“Me too, been a rough day.”

* * *

Sombra undressed in front of McCree as he sat with his elbows resting on his knees and looked away. He cheated and caught a glimpse of her back as she undid her purple and black cat suit. Sombra paused and looked over her shoulder when she felt his eyes on her back but continued.

“You’re looking...” she said in a sing-song voice.

He looked away.

“Don’t mean nothin’ by it, I can just appreciate the female form,” he said grabbing a different nearby cowboy hat.

McCree had an odd almost artistic appreciation for women, though he wasn't truly attracted to them. The sense he got from Sombra was that, though she was very beautiful, there were women in the world who were more aesthetically so. Sombra's body seemed geared for sexual enjoyment. She was far sexier than she was beautiful, it was the difference between a porn-star and a model.

“Suddenly got a taste for women?” she asked.

“Heh, no ma’am. But if you don’t mind me sayin’ you got a hell of a bod,” he said placing the cap on his head at a haphazard forward slant, “I bet there are some folks who go crazy for ya’”

“Yeah, I’m a lot of fun,” Sombra replied arrogantly.

McCree chuckled. “I’m sure you are,” he said as she crawled into bed next to him, “Man, I’d like to buy you for what yer worth n’ sell you for what you think you’ll bring.”

She took his arm and put herself under his shoulder so she could lay on his chest. He scrunched his chin as he looked down at her and regarded her face. Her eyes had changed, they’d dilated slightly and gone all fuzzy. She shifted, rubbing her pelvis against his leg.

“Just what in the hell are you thinking?” he asked.

“I, uh, have trouble getting to sleep these days.”

“Aw hell no, I ain’t helpin’ you with nuthin’!” he asserted, “just like that n’ you’re in the mood?”

“Come on, McCree!” she pined.

“Listen here missy, I wouldn’t know left from right down there. You need a thing? You can go on n’ do it yourself.” Sombra glared at him with a pout. “You just think about who yer talkin’ to!” he continued, “I do that for you and you’ll try n’ walk all over me.”

“ _Te crees muy muy,_ ” muttered Sombra as she unraveled herself from McCree.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively as he lifted his arm, “need some privacy?”

“Nope, I’ll just be a minute.”

McCree gave her an incredulous look then lowered his cowboy hat over his eyes and lay back on the pillow. Sombra lay back with her knees up and removed her underwear. With a few deep breaths she began to rub herself, at first with delicate motions but then with increasing force. McCree simply lay silent with his hands folded as he felt the mattress vibrate from the repetitive motions of her right arm. When McCree felt Sombra’s skin pressing into him he shifted so she wouldn’t be touching him. Sombra moaned and shuddered then stopped. After being still for a few moments she picked it up again and repeated the process two more times each time with more force. Finally, she lay down next to McCree exhausted and wound herself around him.

“Wow,” he said with a grim laugh, “you just did that right in front of me an’ you don’t even care.”

“Its nothing, we’re friends, right?” she said looking up at him from his chest.

“Somethin’ like that,” he grunted. They lay silently staring at the ceiling in the darkness. “You reckon we’re fucked up?” 

“We _are_ fucked up,” replied Sombra flatly, “don’t think about it.”

“Well, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it ain’t thinking things through...”


	2. Chapter 2

"Holy hell," muttered McCree as he awoke with a hangover and a pinched nerve. Despite the unpleasant state of his dehydrated brain, there was a brief moment of comfort from the sensation of sleeping next to a warm person. "Hanzo?" he muttered as he lifted his hat. He caught sight of the panty-less Latina hacker resting under his arm instead. "Oh hell, it's _you_. I think I'm in someone else's fantasy. What did I do to deserve this?"

Sombra frowned and squeezed her eyes shut to focus on blocking out the noisy cowboy. Unfortunately, ears remain the only sensory organ humans can't close.

"Shut up," she grumbled.

"I gotta get up darlin', once I'm up, I'm up," McCree asserted.

"Fine."

She curled on her side as McCree sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. In a mere moments he was strutting around with a different cowboy hat and a rolled cigarette in his mouth in a pair of semi-clean 2(x)ist tighty-whiteys he'd picked off the mess on his floor. The noise of McCree's fussing in the kitchen forced Sombra to finally abandon sleep. Instead she watched McCree like an irritated cat observing a stranger's behavior.

"You're finally awake," McCree grunted.

"No hope for sleep when you're making all that noise," she said glaring up at him with her vicious sleepless eyes.

"You just sleep with all that makeup on?" said McCree expertly keeping his cigarette pinched in his mouth as he spoke, "I know a thing er two about that, it ain't great."

She ignored him.

"When did you even make that cigarette? I don't think I've ever seen you without one."

"Lord knows I came out the chute with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other," he said emptying out old coffee from a pot over the dirty dishes in his sink. He slammed the pot back into his ancient Mr. Coffee and filled it with a jug of his uncontaminated water. "Coffee?"

"I'll pass." Sombra noticed McCree's underwear and how the cut improved McCree's bulge. "Nice undies," she said with a hint of shade, "boyfriend pick them out for you?"

"That's the word," McCree sighed, "Han's tastes are a lil' citified fer me. A real man wears boxers." As he waited for the coffee, it looked as if a dark cloud passed over his face. Sombra watched the stress hit his body and his eyes become glassy from the mere mention of Hanzo. Instinctively, he reached for a nearby handle of whiskey and took a quick pull.

"Wow, it's bad," she noted, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Hell, I dunno, it ain't nothin'," he said with a hint of irritation as he wiped his mouth, "I just can't see a reason he'd put me through this. Every mornin' it's like a slap in the face when I realize he's gone."

Sombra rolled her shoulders and slinked from the mattress over to McCree. She swiped the bottle from his hands, tilted her head back, and chugged for 30 seconds before handing the bottle back to a wide-eyed McCree. She didn’t even cough.

"Its OK, I'm here for you," she said as her saliva became thick from the whiskey.

"The hell you are! Yer here for my whiskey!"

"I'm not good with other people's feelings. Trust me, it'll help," she said looking at him innocently.

"Well, OK," he replied skeptically before taking a pull himself, "you can start by tellin' me why he left me."

"I'm good, but I can't read minds, McCree."

"I don't mean nunnaya armchair psychoanalysis, an' I don't need 'emotional support,' I mean you get on your dang computer and find out for sure what my rightful boyfriend is thinkin'! Why he's doin' this to me!"

Sombra shook her head.

"I'll do it, Jesse. But why don't you find something to take him off your mind while I work?"

"I found it, it's called drinkin'," he asserted. His eyes wandered between Sombra's legs. "You _still_ ain't got any panties on. I can't tell if you trust me or don't respect me, er just don't have any decency."

"Try all three, _amigo_ ," she followed his eyes between her legs then looked up and grinned lasciviously, "you know, I bet I could take him off your mind."

"Heh," Jesse smirked and swilled the bottle in his hands, "I know you're just naturally horizontal. You just can't sit still when you're not seducing somebody somewhere. But I gotta tell ya', I'm gonna be useless to ya'."

Sombra looked sidelong at the coffee maker as it sputtered and churned. "Yeah, it's a problem," she said with a hint of sadness and frustration.

"Huh, sounds like you got yer own demons," he said washing out a dirty mug and pouring himself some coffee, "ain't you into girls anyways?"

"Yeah, I'm into girls, doesn't matter what gender."

McCree winced as he tried to wrap his head around what Sombra said.

"Eh? I might need some coffee before I untangle that tumbleweed. But best behave before I gather yer callin' me a chick. All I know is you got that 'sexually omnivorous appetite,' you'll have anyone as long as you can boss 'em around. I ain't a fool."

"Aw, McCree, I'm not some dominatrix or whatever," she said with a malicious smile, "you must not think very highly of me."

"No ma'am, you chew folks up and spit 'em out. What happened to that gamer girl you were messing around with er that Lucian fella?"

"I can't even..." said Sombra scratching her head, "Lucian? Oh my God, McCree, _it's Lucio_. They play him at clubs all the time!"

"Look, I like two types of music, all variety of country and _country_. Now you gonna tell or what?"

Sombra sighed and rubbed her arms as she looked off at nothing in particular. "Um, they were dating, Lucio and Hana. I tried to kill them."

McCree drew in and exhaled the harsh rolling tobacco smoke out his nostrils. The smoke curled in the morning sunlight from the strange house's small circular windows. 

"Why am I not surprised?"

"To be fair, Lucio slept with me afterwards. So that's like forgiving me, I guess. But they'd gotten back together so he was cheating on Hana."

"Sounds about right. Any other adventures?"

"Gabe and Amelie."

"Jesus," said McCree putting his hand down on the counter. He eyed his coffee and took a gulp. "At the same time?"

Sombra shook her head 'no' at first then nodded 'yes.'

"I'm not even going to ask how that works, just seems unholy," he grimaced, "all you sociopaths together, bet ya'll really tipped over the outhouse."

"Pretty much." Sombra tentatively removed a coffee mug from under an architecturally unsound stack of tableware with a clatter and poured herself some coffee.

"That why you left?"

"They're reforming Talon's inner council, Akande's back and we don't see eye to eye. I don't want to talk about it."

"Suits me just fine," he said opening his fridge and pulling out a plastic wrapped packet of bacon from a small stack.

Sombra noticed that this was the entire contents of his fridge besides a container of milk with a conspicuous bulge. 

"McCree, that's what you're eating?" she asked.

"Mornin', noon and night if I can remember. Bacon and whiskey."

Sombra humphed.

"That's why you're growing that pot," she said patting McCree's hairy stomach.

"Yep, Hanzo said he liked it."

"He was being nice."

McCree chuckled and gave Sombra a nod as if to say "touché."

"You don't give me nothing but shade. When er you gonna get to work?"

* * *

Sombra sat on McCree's dirty mattress in her underwear looking sullen as she tapped on her haptic keyboard. Within an hour she'd drained half of one of McCree's fifths of whiskey and cracked Hanzo's social media and email accounts. The holographic light from her hand reflected off her drunken eyes as she worked.

"McCree, you're not going to like this..."

"What? What is it?" muttered McCree looking up from the generator on the kitchen table he was trying in vain to fix.

"This is him... I think your boyfriend has a type."

Sombra brought up a hexagonal modal in her hand displaying a handsome Asian gentlemen with a square chin in an Elvis costume. McCree stepped over and regarded him with squinty eyes.

"That's the fella that's got his life together? He ain't nuthin'!"

"His name is Jun Yoon. They call him the 'Elvis of Asia,' he's a world class Elvis impersonator and the heir to a powerful crime syndicate in Japan and South Korea. They're having a, let's see, 'all American pan-denominational celebration' in honor of their civil union in Las Vegas in a couple of days. You weren't invited."

"I'll kill 'im!" shouted McCree, "where's my long gun?!"

"What? Jesse, let me handle this," she said closing her hand, "I'll make it nice and quiet, I'll dig up dirt on him, show it to Hanzo and make him disappear. I've done it a hundred times. Hanzo will want him dead."

"Naw, this is about honor. I ain't havin' you delete this guy then I swoop in like some vulture for sloppy seconds. This asshole insulted me n' my name, Got damnit!" Jesse roared.

Sombra gave a few shady blinks. "OK, we do it your way. Which is?"

"I'll beat this guy, I'll challenge him to a duel then propose to Hanzo. That way I'm the better man."

"McCree, you, uh, wanted me to help..."

"Yeah, hold on I'm gettin' to it." He put his hand on his hip and hunched as he thought. "Alright," he said pointing at her with his mechanical arm, "so you get dirt on 'em, convince Hanzo this piece of shit is a piece of shit, then I humiliate him in a duel. Done."

"Uh, Jesse. What if he just says no? I mean, I wouldn't duel you. No one in their right mind would duel you."

"Well, he better accept, if he knows what's good for 'im," spat McCree as he stomped around the little house in search of his gear, "I'm callin' in all my favors. Now where's my snake skin leather jacket? We got a weddin' to crash."


	3. Chapter 3

Sombra lay asleep in her underwear on McCree's bare mattress with her hand around the neck of a bottle of whiskey when she awoke to the sound of fingers snapping in front of her face. She snorted and snapped to. It was McCree. She flashed him an utterly offended look.

"Darlin', we're gettin' company."

"Fuck off," she cursed, pushing his hand out of her face.

"Watch that attitude. How can you sleep at a time like this? You're supposed to be workin' on getting me my ex back, I feel like I been doin' all the heavy lifting!"

"Sorry, I was just trying out your lifestyle," she said sounding more than a little pissed, "I already worked on it anyways."

"That's interestin' because your version of workin' looks a lot like doing a lot of nuthin' at all," he grunted, "just get dressed, Tracer's almost here."

Sombra's eyes widened in surprise at first but then became cool and confident.

"Oh yeah, Tracer..." she said with a devious grin.

"You know 'er?"

"You could say we're friends..."

McCree narrowed his eyes at Sombra and shifted the position of his cigarette in his mouth. "What did you do to her?"

At that moment the small adobe house was filled with the sound of retro-thrusting jump jets. Sombra got up and quickly donned her catsuit as McCree switched cowboy hats. They stepped outside to witness a stealthy black aircraft landing in McCree's front yard. The markings of the aircraft were custom: a British RAF roundel on the nose cone, red anarchy 'A' spray painted under the cockpit, and an Overwatch logo similarly spray painted on the tail fin along with numerous mission tallies.

"That's a Talon aircraft..." noted Sombra.

The aircraft's thrusters whirred down as Tracer stepped down from the small ladder under the aircraft's tandem cockpit. She swaggered over to McCree and Sombra pulling off her gloves and sticking them in her captured red and black Talon flight suit. Tracer's confident stride slowed as she caught sight of Sombra standing next to McCree.

"What's all this, what the hell is _she_ doing here?"

"She's doin' me a favor, now settle," asserted McCree.

"That psychopath tortured Jack and Ana! You have no idea what she's done, Jesse. She nearly destroyed us!" Tracer shouted, "You know what? Forget it! I _know_ how to deal with her!"

She decked Sombra as hard as she could across the face. Sombra fell to the ground as the pilot took her back and tried to choke her out.

" _Amiga,"_ Sombra purred as Tracer reached her arm around her throat, "I haven't forgotten about you..."

"Shut it you tosser!"

"Now listen here, ya'll find a way to work it out peaceably er else!"

Sombra opened her haptic keyboard and, with a few strokes, Tracer phased out of existence.

"What in tarnation? You bring her back!"

Sombra stood and fixed her hair. With a keystroke Tracer was back. She turned to Sombra and raved.

"Why you—how dare you! You think you can just erase me!?"

"Come on, _amiga._ Try it again."

Jesse fired his gun into the air. The shot echoed over the desolate West Texan expanse giving the two women pause.

"That's enough!" shouted McCree.

"She started it," muttered Sombra rubbing her cheek.

Jesse aimed his hefty Peacemaker at her and she shut up.

"Now, I don't know how to say this but I'm drunk, love sick and in a trifflin' state a' mind," he bellowed, "both of ya'll owe me, so leave this Overwatch crap until afterwards, ya' hear?!"

"You're gonna get it, Sombra," taunted Tracer under her breath in sing-song like a British primary school bully.

Sombra smiled like a hyena. "I know you're afraid of me, _mija..._ "

Tracer rolled her eyes and stomped towards McCree. "Jesse, what are you doing, luv? I'd do anything for you, but with her?"

"Look, I need to get to Las Vegas with a less-than-legal load a' alcohol and firearms so I can stop my rightful husband's wedding n' I got enough trouble with alcohol, tobacco n' firearms as it is without the government gettin' involved." Tracer took off her aviators and regarded him as if he were utterly insane. "Now, I know how this looks, but this is love, Lena." Tracer rubbed her head as she thought but then returned to staring at him squinty eyed and thoroughly unconvinced. McCree nodded a few times, spit, then took off his hat so they could meet eye-to-eye. "Whadda I got to say? This here is some gay shit. So you helpin' or what?"

"OK, Jesse," she said throwing her hands up in resignation.

McCree humphed in approval. "Come 'ere," he said embracing her, "I knew I could count on ya'."

"Jesse, luv, what on Earth is this jacket?" she asked, awkwardly receiving the hug.

He stepped back and donned his hat. "Its my snake skin leather jacket, it represents my belief in individuality and personal freedom n' I intend to get married in it."

Sombra hovered her purple spyder into the stealthy cargo plane and latched it down while McCree hauled in a crate of guns, whiskey and a hastily packed duffel bag full of unwashed clothes. Tracer sat moodily in the cockpit with her feet up trying to ignore Sombra's existence by reading a Playboy as they worked. Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Sombra.

"Whoa!" Tracer shouted as she recoiled in surprise, "how did you-?"

"Where did you get this plane? Its one of ours," Sombra interrupted.

"Picked it up in Mexico after your fiasco, luv. Finders keepers," she replied in a snide tone.

"That's interesting, useful for your smuggling?"

Tracer put the nudey magazine down on the console in frustration. "How did...? Nevermind. Must make you feel better than everyone else being such a know it all," she said sitting up and pretending to mind the controls, "its the only work I could get after you ruined my life, I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"Aw, _pobricita_ , you can get back together with Emily," said Sombra draping herself over the back of Tracer's chair, "though, if you're feeling blue, there are people at Talon who might be interested now that the new Overwatch is done, if you know what I'm saying."

Tracer grit her teeth and whipped around in her chair to face Sombra. "Overwatch _will_ get back together, legally this time and we'll send you and all your Talon friends to jail."

Sombra smiled deviously at her, pleased that she could get a rise.

"Hey! You ladies getting along?" shouted McCree up into the cockpit.

"We're peachy," Tracer called back sounding a bit peeved.

McCree spit. "Good, I'm loaded up so prep 'er for takeoff."

Sombra slinked out of the cockpit. "I'll give you a hint, double check your contracts. In this business you're practically working for Talon anyways," she said pausing at the top of the ladder, "cheers luv."

She finished lowering herself down with a chuckle. At the bottom of the ladder she flicked her hair at McCree and gave him a sly look. McCree simply shook his head at her in return. Tracer watched the whole interaction fuming.

"Oooh, I _hate_ her," she muttered to herself.

* * *

Tracer's captured Talon predator was en route to the outskirts of Las Vegas. McCree parked himself on a bench drinking as he subjected everyone to his depressing country music. Charlie Feathers crooned over the intercom at his request. Sombra sat bored in her spyder nonchalantly tapping on her haptic keyboard and wincing every couple of seconds as the poor recording echoed through the cargo hold.

 _You say you're trough with me_  
_You're settin' me free_  
_You're just out with your used-to-be_

 _I can't hardly stand it_  
_You're troublin' me_  
_I can't hardly stand_  
_It just can't be_  
_Well, you don't know, a-babe I love you so_  
_You got me all tore up, all tore up_

Suddenly, Sombra snapped. "McCree! I can't stand it any longer!"

"Heh, that's what the song's about," he replied darkly. He took a swig of whiskey.

"No, I need to hear different music, this is driving me nuts!"

"To be fair, luv, its been driving me bonkers," Tracer chimed in over the cargo bay intercom.

"Well, get used to it!" shouted McCree standing up and raving at the intercom speaker with whiskey in hand, "its my way a' copin'!"

"Oookay, luv."

Sombra glared at the intercom and blinked a few times in irritation at the music. Mr. Feathers' crooning and squeaking had finally become too much. With a few decisive keystrokes the music was shut off.

"Oh thank God," they heard Tracer mutter under her breath over the intercom.

McCree stood and pointed at Sombra. "Hey! You just made a big mistake there, missy," he shouted drunkenly.

"Why McCree, I have no idea what you're talking about..."

Tracer chimed in. "Best leave it, Jesse, we're two minutes to target."

Sombra smiled at him innocently then reached over and popped open the door to her targa convertible. "Get in," she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her and shifted the cigabutt in his mouth.

"No one interrupts my music n' gets away with it," he said standing tall and placing his hands on his belt, "but I ain't got time to deal with you. Lucky fer me I got a long memory..."

He spit for good measure.

Sombra contained her chuckle at McCree's old timey masculinity as he stomped towards the car with his imposing steps. He got in with a grumble.

"You," said Sombra with uncharacteristic honesty, "are _ridiculous_."

They felt the rumble of the supersonic aircraft's thrusters as they dropped altitude. They were getting close to their destination.

"Just better drive," McCree muttered.

Tracer lowered the cargo bay doors and the cabin depressurized. The roar of the aircraft's thrusters filled the cargo bay.

"You sure this little car can handle this?" he shouted over the noise.

"I have literally no idea!" Sombra shouted back.

She pressed the ignition button and revved the engine causing the spyder's headlights to momentarily beam brighter from the increased power.

"Releasing in 3... 2..."

Sombra's pupil's shrank to the size of pin heads and Jesse held onto his hat as the spyder was flung backwards into the air. The wind blew their hair in every direction as the cargo bay of the Talon aircraft disappeared giving way to an illuminated highway. At once, they were struck with a sudden sense of weightlessness as they fell causing Jesse to shout all the way down. As they landed, the back of the car hit the highway with a _CLUNK!_ serving to finally shut him up. The Talon Predator soared off overhead as they screamed down the empty highway at high speed.

"Whoops that was supposed to be on one, luv," Tracer crackled in over Sombra's radio. "Sure hope Sombra's OK..." she added in a snide tone.

Sombra turned off the radio and pulled the car over to the side of the road. She turned to McCree with a frazzled expression and blinked.

"That was the plan the whole time?!" he shouted, "when were you two gonna discuss that with me?"

She continued to stare at him. He watched her eyes turned blurry as she swallowed. Suddenly, she became frantic.

"Shut up, McCree, I'm so fucking turned on right now," she said reaching for his head and trying to lock lips with him.

McCree struggled to bat off Sombra's hands. "Got dang it, Sombra!"

Sombra was speaking so fast her words were blurring into each other. " _Just fuck me right here. I don't care if you're gay, I can get you hard_ ," she said unzipping her catsuit and throwing herself on him.

"Now, I dun told you the deal! You can handle it yourself!"

Sombra sat back in her chair and looked at him with a face of utter outrage and contempt. McCree returned a stern look. He wouldn't budge. She sighed, lowered the seat and resentfully dug herself in. In a few moments she was pleasuring herself as McCree folded his arms and stared at a particularly asexual looking cactus trying to ignore Sombra's aroused breathing. After the tell-tale coital sigh and the sound of her zipping herself back up he turned to her. She sat hunched over the wheel with her pelvis conspicuously placed a little forward. He openly wondered if that was so the vibration of the engine would stimulate her.

"Honey, you got yerself a problem there..." he said eyeing her skeptically, "that is a _serious_ character flaw."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a nympho," she said gritting her teeth and putting the car back into drive.

"What gets you going?" McCree asked in wonderment.

"Pretty much anything illegal, dangerous or taboo..."

"So, I must be drivin' you nuts," he replied. Jesse's eyes wandered the horizon then fell on a "Welcome to Las Vegas" road sign. _Oh God,_ he thought as his eye twitched. Sombra's turn-ons may as well have been a description of Las Vegas itself.

"I wasn't done with my list, McCree," she said leaning on the door with her elbow. She held her forehead and looked at him sidelong from under her hand as if she were ashamed. "Stress is a big trigger for me, alcohol, drugs, violence, when I start to feel depressed, when I'm going through a manic episode... Anything can set me off, I just need it."

The cigarette, which he'd managed to keep in his mouth through the course of the landing, fell out of McCree's mouth. "Well shyit..."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hell, I knew you was crazy but I didn't know you was certified!" exclaimed Jesse, "how you gonna keep it together when we hit the city?"

Sombra winced. "Look, I can keep it under control..."

"Holy hell..." exclaimed McCree holding his hat, "droppin' outta a plane got you excited? Most folks would be higher strung n' a 50 ft fiddle on cocaine!" He'd pronounced cocaine "coke-hane."

"Its not funny, McCree," Sombra fumed, "and that's not even a thing! Look, I know its a serious problem, I just needed to, you know, calm down. I haven't gotten laid in a while..."

McCree grumbled to himself. He knew what that meant, Sombra would be on the pull as soon as they arrived and he'd have to tolerate her trying to manage a nearly bottomless sexual appetite.

"Just drive, n' when we get there, try to keep it on the DL..."

 

* * *

 

_Later that day..._

_Lux Interior's high-class professional one-in-a-million house of tailoring and custom suits, Las Vegas_

"Jun," said Hanzo raising his eyes to the mirror in front of him. A tailor was in the midst of constructing a fitted white suit-dress on his body as he stood motionless. "I can't believe you talked me into this. I imagined having a traditional Japanese wedding."

"You better know by now te' call me the King," replied Jun in a pitch perfect Elvis impersonation as he sat man-spreaded on the bench behind Hanzo, "an' ain't no need for that lil' number. Besides, you threw tradition out the winder when you proposed to the King, darlin'. I want you lookin' the part."

Hanzo sighed and regarded himself. "While I will forever question your taste, there will be no higher honor."

"We'll make yer dead daddy proud, baby."

Suddenly, Jun's cellphone rang with an unironically chosen Elvis Presley "Hound Dog" ring tone.

"Uh-huh," answered Jun.

" _There's a cowboy and a girl with a side-shave asking too many questions at the hotel._ "

"Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh," Jun replied. He pocketed the phone in his jacket, stood and ran his hands along the sides of his Elvis-do then snapped his head towards Hanzo. "I gotta run, baby..."

He donned his aviators and whisked himself out with a turn of his cape.

 

* * *

 

_The Aristocrat Hotel, also Las Vegas_

"You're making an ass of yourself, Jesse!" shouted Sombra as she held him back. Jesse was in the midst of trying to reach over the counter to grip a cowering hotel concierge. Behind them a line of rather concerned looking hotel guests mumbled and shifted in discomfort as they waited to check-in.

"Sir, I can't disclose information about our guests!" the concierge shouted with a discernible vocal fry.

"You'll tell me where that good-fer-nuthin' Elvis wannabe is er else!"

"Sir, I see literally hundreds of Elvis impersonators everyday! Please leave me alone!"

" _Meda tu pinche guey!_ " shouted Sombra, wrapping her arms around McCree's torso to try and pull him back, "we know he's here already, you think I can't find this out?!"

McCree calmed himself and fixed his hat. Sombra let go and impatiently hit him.

"Just can't tolerate this twink sassin' me..." McCree squinted and scanned the room. The bystanders awkwardly averted their eyes. His eyes fell on several greasers sitting in the waiting area. They raised their shifty eyes from their newspapers. "Right, we'll take a room..." McCree grunted.

Nervously, the concierge rose from behind the counter.

"Here, put it on my card," said Sombra, “and take a couple hundred for your troubles” The concierge eyed them both anxiously. “Do it,” she menaced. A chill shot down the poor boy’s spine and he took the card.

“Um, right away... Ms. Vasquez.”

“There’s something fishy about this place...” noted Jesse eyeing the gaudy vintage Las Vegas décor, “its the guests... I reckon this whole place is wrapped up.” He leveled his eyes on the concierge again and squinted. He watched the poor fellow quake and sweat under his gaze. “How much he pay you to keep quiet?”

“That’ll do,” uttered an Asian greaser with an Elvis-do as he emerged from behind a gaudy marble pillar with a gun.

“Eep!” The concierge ducked behind the counter and the bystanders scattered. The greasers in the waiting area drew their weapons, a mismatched clutter of bats, switchblades and handguns, and encircled Sombra and McCree.

“Heh, what’re you gonna do with that chrome plated sissy pistol? Tickle me to death?”

“Real original,” the greaser scoffed, “but she’ll do just fine keepin’ you in line until The King gets here.”

McCree raised an eyebrow in amusement. “The King, eh?”

“I'm The King, baby!” interrupted Jun as he bombastically exploded out of the revolving doors in a surfer pose. He took his diamond trimmed aviator sunglasses and tossed them carelessly at a henchmen then struck a deep leaning stance and pointed at McCree. Slowly, he lowered his chin and looked out at McCree from under his brow as he tapped the on velvet rug with his blue suede shoes. “You there, I bet yer here to muscle in on my man. Well, baby girl, you got another thing comin’.”

“What in tarnation?” spat McCree, “ _this_ is the guy?”

“He’s dangerous McCree,” warned Sombra under her breath.

Jun reared up before marching across the long velvet carpet to McCree. As he approached, McCree realized that the ‘Elvis of Asia’ was not a tall man. McCree’s expression became more and more incredulous the closer he got.

“You,” said Jun whipping his head towards McCree and placing his finger against his chest, “are in _my_ town, honey pie.”

Slowly, McCree shifted the cigarette in his mouth, removed it, and delicately dropped it on Jun’s blue suede shoes. Then, with a decisive step, ground the cheap rolly into his shoe with his dirty boot. Sombra felt the room recoil and cringe then was necessarily attenuated to Jun’s rising temper. Jun had remained completely motionless besides a slight twinge in his eye. She watched a vein bulge under his ear.

But McCree wasn’t done. As Jun’s face reddened in the awkward silence, McCree took off his hat, removed the cigarette rolling components within and rolled a new cigarette, all the while keeping his catty eyes on the diminutive Elvis impersonator. Finally, McCree flopped his hat back on his messy hair, lit his butt and raised his chin with a disdainful smirk.

“You were sayin’?”

“You just messed with my blue suede shoes. Folks ain’t gonna believe how dead you are.”

Before McCree could respond, Jun let out an eardrum shattering martial arts yell and jumped up with a lightning fast spin kick. The kick impacted with McCree’s face so hard that it carried his chin into the concierge desk. Stunned, McCree’s eyes met those of the utterly petrified concierge before he was dragged away and forced upright. With McCree set up, Jun took a horse stance and began to pummel McCree’s chest with a flurry of punches. Once he was sufficiently tenderized, Jun pulled back and struck McCree with a haymaker punch across his face. McCree twisted to the floor. Almost immediately, Jun pressed his face into the floor with his blue suede shoe.

“Of course he knows martial arts...” Sombra muttered.

Jun spit on Jesse, stepped off and turned to Sombra with his now somewhat disheveled Elvis hair.

“You there, fag hag,” he said pointing towards her and curling his lip, “tell that wannabe cowboy that Hanzo’s got a new man, n’ that I’m better than him ‘cause I’m the King.”

Sombra’s eyes lit up as a reservoir of hatred was unleashed. “Excuse me, _what_ did you call me?”

“Jesse McCree!” called the stern voice of a Japanese man from across the room.

All eyes snapped to him in a flash. McCree winced and opened his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Hanzo in a gold and diamond trimmed suit-dress with a cape and veil. He was beautiful, ridiculous, but beautiful. The light shimmered off the diamonds on Hanzo's outfit and blurred in McCree's drunken eyes. He felt a quick pang in his heart, McCree hadn't seen Hanzo in months, he looked almost unreal.

“Aw, what the hell’s he got you in?” muttered Jesse as he braced himself on his knee.

“I should have expected you would come here to protest,” Hanzo scoffed.

“Mighty kind of you to not givin’ me an invitation. What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

“Its not what you did, its what you _didn’t_ do.”

“There you are, spoiled as all hell. Just how was I supposed to read your mind?”

“In a relationship there are duties and obligations, you know of no such things.”

“I hate to interrupt this reunion,” interjected The King, pointing rudely at Jesse, “but I feel my hubby doesn’t got to tell you nuthin’ if he doesn’t want to.”

“Indeed,” affirmed Hanzo.

“Now just a minute here, we’re talkin’ things through. He dun left me months ago with no word er nothin’. I got a right to know!”

The scared bystanders looked on at the bizarre confrontation with a surprising degree of emotional investment. Hanzo lowered his eyes in thought at first but then leveled his stern gaze at McCree.

“I felt like a hookup, you would visit me for a few weeks at a time then leave me. You put forward no plans for us to move in together, to share our lives together!” he asserted, squeezing his fist, “I wanted to get married but it seemed... impossible.” He opened his palm and made a diagonal cutting motion across his chest with his hand. “So as hard as it was, I ended our relationship! I thought it would be better for us both to sever entirely instead of drawing out the inevitable. There is your answer!”

Jun stepped to Hanzo’s side and wrapped his arm around him proudly as though he were a trophy.

“Han, you wanted to marry me?” muttered McCree in bewilderment, “I had no idea...”

“Ya’ll got what yous wanted, best you better leave, cowboy...”

“Naw, I _ain’t_ got what I wanted!” roared McCree. He spit and stormed towards Jun. “I challenge you to a duel in three days at high-noon for Hanzo’s hand in marriage.”

Hanzo frowned and turned his head away from McCree impatiently. He was being outrageous.

“That’s funny, bunny. ‘cause I got a wedding to go to on that particuluh evenin’” replied Jun, spitting out the ‘p’ in particular.

McCree cocked his head. “Well, best call it off.”

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint my friends n’ family so, tell you what,” Jun replied, narrowing his eyes at McCree, “I’ll do you a favor n’ push it back a day but we duel _my_ way. We fight hand-to-hand.”

“Like hell, we duel with guns!”

“Preposterous!” exclaimed Hanzo.

“Now now, honey, I reckon yer ex can be reasoned with... how ‘bout this, we do three duels,” said Jun raising three fingers as he hopped into a dynamic stance. “One is hand-to-hand, one is with guns so its even,” he said counting off on his fingers, “but if this duel is for my hubby’s heart then we make it about him. The last is a _love song._ Best two outta three.”

“What?!”

“You heard me right. Each of us performs a song. The better show wins. Now whaddaya say?”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” scoffed Hanzo.

“Don’t worry, baby, I don’t reckon he’ll win.”

McCree squinted and regarded Jun with his cool gaze. Jun raised his eyebrows and bobbed his head cockily.

“I accept,” said McCree finally. He extended his hand.

Jun grasped it firmly and they shook. The two men grinned at each other like lions as their grips strengthened. Finally, they let go.

“You an' me, Jesse. We got a date in the gym at high noon. Be there or be square,” said Jun snapping his fingers and turning in place, "Come on, baby. Let’s blow this joint."

Hanzo stepped up to McCree and glared at him as Jun's entourage of greasers and rockabillies left the gaudy reception area. McCree raised his chin stoically and stared them down as they passed by.

“I can’t believe what you’re doing,” said Hanzo, approaching him with folded his arms.

McCree smirked. “Admit it, you like the attention.”

Hanzo unfolded his arms with a sigh and cast Jesse a complicated look. Though Jesse was a fool, almost involuntarily Hanzo could feel their old chemistry starting up. “I will admit, I can accept the dubious honor of being pursued by a drunk cowboy.”

“You look ridiculous in that Elvis getup made like a dress. Are you outta yer dang mind?”

“How ironic, you look ridiculous in that cowboy outfit,” Hanzo scoffed at first but then lowered his defenses, “...Jun, of course, wanted an Elvis themed wedding.”

McCree raised an eyebrow at this remark. “He better be treatin’ you right.”

“Relationships are about compromise,” Hanzo asserted, “Jun is a powerful and respected man. He can restore my family's empire. I can more than tolerate his idiosyncrasies."

“I said lets go, Han!” came Jun’s voice from across the room.

Hanzo turned to leave but kept his eyes on McCree for a second longer before making his way out. “Goodbye, Jesse.”

Sombra stepped to McCree’s side, walking with a slight hunch. She eyed him skeptically.

“You three are literally the most exhausting, melodramatic queens on the fucking planet. How can you keep that performance up?”

“It ain’t an act, Sombra! Its how I am!”

“I need a drink...”


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't believe it, its political!" shouted Jesse over the hubbub at the bar of a Texas themed steak house. He was glassy eyed and five shots deep into their cheapest whiskey as a version of "It's Just That Song" he didn't recognize echoed over the blown out sound system. A ZZ Top cover band, massive beards and all, argued among themselves as they set up on the stage behind him. "He ain't marryin' for love," McCree continued, "he thinks this bozo will restore his family's empire!"

"I don't know how a wannabe samurai can go on about honor when his family business is dealing drugs and running brothels," noted Sombra as she swilled her tequila shot in her hand.

McCree slammed down another shot then gestured to their bartender, Jenny, a redhead in a cowgirl outfit with a heart tattoo on her left boob and a fake Texas accent, to keep them coming. She returned with another shot, soliciting a head raise from the decrepit bar patrons. When she left, via some kind of autonomic reaction, they lowered their heads accordingly.

"My life was already absurd," moped McCree, taking the shot, "n' now, I gotta get my ass beat by an Elvis impersonator? Shyyiit." McCree looked up when there was no response. "Yer not listenin' to me, yer lookin' at the bartender!"

Sombra shook to, momentarily lost regarding the bartender's ample breasts and low midriff. Jenny, used to her high visibility job, simply smiled and kept busy under Sombra's objectifying gaze.

"She is just... wow," replied Sombra, uncrossing and crossing her legs. She turned her attention back to McCree. "Look at it this way, _amigo._ Hanzo clearly has a type, its just a matter of doing this weird American masculinity thing better than Jun. You have the opportunity to seduce Hanzo again"

"I like your getup, partner," the bartender said to McCree with a wink as she wiped down the space in front of them.

Out of politesse, McCree smiled and haphazardly tipped his hat. In truth, every sensibility he had grated against the way she pronounced "partner". Sombra, however, was again lost as Jenny leaned over the counter.

"I told you, I am how I am. I ain't puttin' together an act like that two-bit slicker. But shit, how em I supposed to beat this guy with a love song? I brought my guns when I shoulda brought my guitar," said McCree taking his hat off in exasperation. He regarded the bottom of his shot glass a moment then turned to Sombra, still in the midst of swooning over the cowgirl. "Free advice worth every penny but lord knows its impossible to pull the bartender no matter which way she goes," he said to Sombra under his breath, "they're always just huntin' for a tip"

She didn't seem to care. McCree sighed and listened to the lyrics as he waited for his next shot.  
  
_It's just that song. No, it's just that song._  
_It's just... I ain't heard it for so long._

_It brings back old memories._  
_Won't you leave me alone please?_  
_No, no, it's just that song..._

Jenny returned, plopping a slip of paper down on the counter.

"What's this?"

"Your tab, you had 6 shots in less than 15 minutes. I can't serve you anymore, sorry partner, its policy"

"Aw hell," muttered Jesse as he pulled out a mess of cash from his pocket and plopped it on the table, "lets blow this fake-ass joint, I got a crate a' whiskey in the room. I ain't never been to a bar in Texas that cut you off after six dang shots... Sombra?"

Sombra was leaning over the bar whispering into Jenny's ear. Jenny's eyes went wide, she turned to Sombra with a blush. Sombra grinned at her lasciviously as the jealous bar patrons looked on. At that moment, the depressing bar music cut off and the ZZ Top cover band started up "Sharp Dressed Man" to the sound of rowdy brouhah from the crowd. The scene had just become intolerable to McCree. He rolled his eyes and donned his hat.

"Yeah, McCree, um, Jenny's gonna take her break," said Sombra keeping her eyes on locked on the cowgirl's, "I guess I'll meet you back at the hotel..."

"I was just on my way out"

Silently, McCree dismounted his barstool, tipped his hat goodbye and made his way out of the restaurant into the warm Las Vegas night. They were off the strip but the light and sound from the casinos and hotels wasn't far.

"Man, this city's got me on edge," he muttered to himself as he rolled a cigarette.

He smoked pensively as he let his mind wander to thoughts of Hanzo.

Suddenly, Jesse's ears were filled with the sound of roaring hotrod engines and screeching tires as a convoy of 20th century hotrods pulled into the restaurant parking lot. McCree tracked the mismatched cars with a stern gaze as they pulled in, rolling about 10 deep. The formation of vintage cars broke and began to crisscross, performing wild donuts as the riders whooped and hollered. Finally, they settled in a circle around McCree and a gang of armed greasers emerged from their custom cars. The lead greaser stepped out of a hotrod sporting a South Korean flag paint job and swaggered up to McCree. With a swift motion, he pulled out a switchblade but McCree didn't flinch. The greaser chuckled at McCree's stoicism and ran the knife, in actuality a novelty comb, through his hair and pocketed it.

"Jesse McCree, the cowpoke..."

The Korean greasers posed themselves on each other and their hotrods in an absurd tableau of pompadours, leather jackets, and Johnny's flipping coins with their cigarette's folded under their sleeves.

"You mighta' heard right..." replied McCree raising his chin at the upstart greaser, "lemme guess, yer not here to cheer me up?"

"No ma'am," he said soliciting chuckles from his gang, "they call me Johnny, Johnny 'the Rocket' Blade, 'cause I'm the fastest greaser with a switchblade this side of the U.S. of A"

Johnny pulled out his switchblade, the real one this time, and cut the air twice in front of McCree's face. That was two cuts and two nicknames too many for McCree.

"Yer fast, huh?" he said with a spit. Like lightning he drew his Peacemaker and shot the knife out of the greaser's hand from his hip. "Let me tell you an old ditty about bringing a knife to a gun fight. Don't." McCree approached the stunned greaser, grabbed him by his pompadour and stuck his gun under his chin. "Now, listen good, tell yer boss that either I get a fair fight or I turn into a real revolving son-of-a-bitch," he said gritting his teeth. McCree shook the hapless fellow and pulled him close to his face. "So next time you n' yer greaser friends come 'round and try and ruin my sunny disposition, you'll be chewin' lead, ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," said the greaser, suddenly losing his American accent.

"Now go on, git!" shouted McCree, kicking him in the butt as he pushed him away.

Johnny's girlfriend frantically wobbled towards him in her slim polka-dot dress and high heels and tried to help him up. He jerked her off and fixed his jacket with a frustrated tug. "Greasers, lets roll out," he shouted pointing to the exit with his thumb. The gang apprehensively piled into their cars and pulled away from the scene with far less ceremony than their entrance. Even their engines somehow sounded a little more cowed. McCree put his hands on his hips and laughed as they skedaddled.

His eyes shifted and he caught sight of Sombra with her hand around Jenny's waist walking her back to the bar.

"Sombra!" called McCree.

"Oh hey, McCree," Sombra called back nonchalantly. Jesse approached the pair with a smirk on his face. Jenny covered her blushing face with her hand. Something told McCree that Sombra had just given her the time of her life in the back of her convertible.

"Howdy, Jenny," he said with a tip of his hat.

"Hey there, cowboy," Jenny replied dropping her fake Texas accent, revealing it to be more Californian in nature, "I gotta go..."

As she pulled away from Sombra, her holster dropped and her revolver skittered out. McCree, being the gentleman he was, bent down and retrieved the items for her. However, before returning the gun he regarded it closely. It was full sized plastic replica of his Peacemaker with an orange tip. He spun and gripped it a few times to feel the weight then handed it back to her, handle first.

"Heh, stay outta trouble with that thing," he said with a coy smile.

She took the gun and scampered off towards the restaurant entrance with her knees together and disappeared inside. Sombra regarded McCree with a satisfied look as she sucked on her teeth. McCree simply shook his head.

"I reckon everything's so fake in this city I just gotta be myself n' I'll naturally win"

"Speaking of fake," noted Sombra, picking a pubic hair out of her teeth, "she's not a redhead..."


	6. Chapter 6

McCree awoke in the bathtub to the sound of impatient knocking against his hotel room door. He coughed a few times, stood and belched then fixed his hat. He'd spent the night getting drunk and playing Texas Hold'em in the small casino in the hotel’s reception area. Upon returning to his room, completely blasted, he’d found his bed occupied by Sombra and Jenny and so slept in the bathtub fully clothed. After gaining his composure the best he could, McCree stepped out of the bathroom to get the door. Briefly he caught sight of a bare-chested Sombra snuggling into Jenny to block out the incessant knocking.

"Yeah, yeah, quit yer bellyachin'..."

McCree swung open the door. It was Hanzo dressed in his gi.

"Han, I wasn't expecting you!'"

"Of course you weren't," Hanzo scoffed, "I see you spent the night drinking instead of preparing for your duel."

"I was preparin' in my own way, besides I think we all know which way this one is goin'."

"Indeed, you never took heed to practice martial arts, as much as I insisted."

"Now now, I can handle myself in a bar scrap pretty good, but I reckon this Jun fella's a cut above. I'll be honest, I'll consider myself lucky if I can pop 'im one time pretty good..." Hanzo looked over McCree's shoulders to witness Sombra and Jenny lying in bed as McCree spoke. Hanzo gave McCree a skeptical eyebrow raise and nodded towards the bed. "It ain't what it looks like," McCree balked, "my friend Sombra's here for support, she just decided to have a bit of fun, you have my word I slept in the bathtub."

"Its none of my business," asserted Hanzo, "I simply came to wish you good luck."

"Well, shucks. Thanks Han, you don't know what that means to me."

"You'd best prepare yourself," warned Hanzo as he gave McCree the up and down, "and take a shower, at least. Goodbye, Jesse."

McCree leaned on the door frame as he watched Hanzo depart down the hall then shook his head and closed the door. Inside, the two girls were looking at each other with bedroom eyes. McCree took out his pocket flask and had a deep swig. He noticed the clock.

"Shyit, its almost noon."

"What's up with Hanzo?" asked Sombra as she ran her vicious nails over Jenny's ear.

"He's just bein' his old elusive self n' wishin' me luck. I'm sure he thought it was the honorable thing to do," replied McCree wiping his eyes.

"Um, is he going to be here?" Jenny asked nervously as Sombra eyed her possessively.

"Don't you mind me, I was just leavin'," Jesse replied, "now, I know you'll be busy, Sombra, but I'd appreciate it if you came." Sombra was silent as she toyed with Jenny. The redhead swallowed and shifted under her apprehensively as Sombra began to kiss her neck. When she didn't respond, McCree became disgruntled. "Yeah, you have fun and thanks for all the support," he grumbled as he stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

McCree stepped into the bright gym in his dusty old cowboy outfit. The hotel gym goers eyed him as if he were an alien. He made his way past the rows of gym equipment towards the boxing ring in the back. Bleachers were set up on either side. A small crowd of Asian greasers and rockabillies occupied the left side. Jun stood in the center of the ring practicing on a training dummy in American flag boxing shorts. His pompadour was tied into a bun and he seemed to be wearing eyeliner. McCree watched the diminutive albeit surprisingly muscular man strike the wooden dummy with sickening thuds. He swallowed as he imagined his internal organs.

"Looks like you're man enough to make it after all, Jesse," said Jun pausing his training to rewrap his hands, "I was gettin' worried."

"I see you got other digs besides your Elvis getup."

"That's right... n' because I'm a generous man, I got you yer own."

He gestured to a greaser henchmen, he pulled out a pair of boxing shorts decorated with a Texas star and tossed them to McCree.

"I like the design."

"That was yer ex's lil' contribution, he demanded I don't make a fool of ya'."

"Mighty kind."

"But lemme tell you something else, pretty boi," said Jun whipping his neck at McCree and extending his hand, "he knows this ain't yer fight n' he said you better not throw, so you're going all 12 rounds with yours truly. No quittin'."

"Aw, hell, I gotta get my ass beat for 12 rounds?!"

"Uh-huh, that's what he said," said Jun curling his lip, "now are you gonna man up er what?"

"Alright, lets dance," replied McCree with a spit.

McCree stood in the gym changing room looking at himself in the mirror in his Lone Star boxing shorts. He was hairy and out of shape. McCree had really let himself go since Hanzo broke up with him. He turned to the side and lightly punched his pot belly with his boxing glove.

"Oh mah Gawd, I'm gonna get my ass kicked..." muttered Jesse in disbelief.

"Talking to yourself, _amigo_?" came Sombra's voice from behind.

"So you made it after all."

She grinned evilly as she slinked towards McCree. "Yep, and I got dirt on Jun. He's got a sports injury he's hid successfully for years until _I_ found out. His left shoulder was broken a few years ago and never healed correctly. Its what stopped him from competing in martial arts tournaments."

"Well, he seems fine enough to whoop my ass! That lil' sucker's fast as lightning! What am I gonna do with that? Do you even know the rules of this thing, sister?"

"He seems fine now but the injury makes him vulnerable," she said rubbing his shoulders as she talked to him in the mirror, "you land a hit there and you'll make the fight as miserable for him as it is for you."

"You're incorrigible, the point of this thing is that its a fair fight! I'm a man of principle. I ain't fudgin' my way out of this."

"Fine," said Sombra removing her hands, "do it your way." She handed him his flask with a smirk. "You're gonna need this."

"Why do I feel like you're gonna enjoy this?" he said swiping it out of her hand.

McCree swaggered into the ring where he met Jun bouncing up and down on his feet. He scanned the bleachers, there was not a soul on his side besides Jenny and Sombra. Jun's side, however, was overfull with greasers, rockabillies and a mishmash all-American lowlifes. Hanzo sat with his arms folded somewhere in the middle, gazing down at the boxing ring judgmentally. The referee kindly informed McCree that he had to remove his cowboy hat. He tossed it in his corner. Suddenly, the lights dimmed.

"In the left cornah, weighing in at 200 pounds, is the former Overwatch agent and unemployed outlaw Jesse McCree. In the right cornah, weighing in at 136 pounds, is 4 times featherweight champion of the World Taekwondo Championship and 3 times bantamweight World Shooto Champion, Jun 'Elvis, The King' Yoon," roared the announcer, "lets gettt rrreeadddy to rrruummmbbleee!"

McCree winced at all the ceremony as he entered the center of the ring. The referee gathered Jun and McCree together and rattled off the rules as the two adversaries eyed each other up. Not a word of the rules registered on either of their faces as they limbered themselves up locked in a death stare. Jesse spit the moment the ref was through.

"Fight!"

The bell sounded and they broke. Jun immediately began to circle McCree.

"This here is my hotel, so I figured I'd give our little contest some personal flair," he said switching his arms up.

"That's about fittin' considering the size a' yer ego."

Jun lunged in and bat at McCree's face with a flurry of punches, letting out a curt " _sho! sho!"_ on every hit. Immediately, McCree was disoriented. He shook his head and tried to predict where the little man would strike next by watching his footwork. Jun noticed and began switching his legs rapidly and dancing in place. Suddenly, he bopped McCree in the face. _That ain't gonna work,_ thought McCree. He regained his composure and decided to try going on the offensive. He swung at Jun with a right hook. Jun stepped aside and punished McCree with a strike to the jaw. As he reeled, the thought that he had to endure 12 rounds of this made its grim return appearance to McCree's mind.

McCree fought on his heels for another 3 minutes before the bell finally sounded. He slumped in the corner, exhausted. Sombra saucily made her way down from the bleachers to McCree.

"I don't think getting hit in the face is a winning strategy, _vacquero,_ " she commented.

"Lil' bastard's just toyin' with me!" exclaimed McCree between breaths.

He watched Jun sitting in his corner getting pampered by his entourage, he hadn't even broken a sweat. Sombra handed McCree a bottle of water. He squirted it in his mouth but immediately spit it out in surprise. It was vodka.

"Aw, I got that special for you, Jesse," said Sombra with a catlike smile.

"You really are just Satan, n' while I appreciate it, I reckon dehydratin' me to death ain't a winnin' strategy neither..."

McCree wiped his face with a towel. The fight bell rang and he reluctantly pulled himself back up and into the center of the ring. McCree endured another round of getting pummeled then wobbled back to his corner sporting a black eye and slumped in the chair. Sombra padded him down with a towel wearing an amused expression.

"You lil' brat. You're loving this..." muttered McCree, "I always knew you was sadistic."

"Oh, don't mind me," she replied with a smile, "I'm just wondering when you're going to take my advice..."

The bell clanged and McCree again assumed the position.

"Fight!" shouted the referee.

Jun continued to toy with McCree for a few minutes when he decided to up the ante. "How's it feel to be beat by the better man? Lemme tell you a secret, I heard you couldn't satisfy yer man with that peashooter between your legs. I heard, you carry a big gun and talk a big talk because your compensatin'" taunted Jun as he circled McCree.

Time seemed to freeze as a feeling of dread, jealousy and insecurity overcame Jesse McCree. Then, all at once he felt a strange feeling in the top of his brain, as if his head had just filled with some kind of virulent foam. He felt anger pour out his eyes.

"Yer gonna get beat by a bigger better man," Jun continued lowering his hands, "they don't call me 'The King' fer nothin'. That's how I stole yer man. You what that makes you?"

"Don't say it," warned McCree gritting his teeth.

"Your nothin' but a cuc-"

Jun couldn't finish the words. McCree's eyes zeroed in on his left shoulder and he rocketed the fist of his robotic arm into it with all the speed and precision he normally had for shooting. Immediately, Jun recoiled and wobbled to the ground in pain giving McCree an utterly horrified look. Hanzo stood to get a better view of the action. He watched Jesse step over Jun as he fell to one knee. Jun tried to hold his left arm up to block but his dislocated shoulder wouldn't allow.

_Pow!_

Jesse struck him again.

The fight bell rang and the referee broke the two fighters. McCree spit and swaggered back to his seat.

"I thought this was an honor fight," purred Sombra as she slithered through the ropes like a snake.

"That lil' fucker crossed the line!" spat Jesse, "Now gimme that whiskey! This ain't no endurance match, I'm here to fight!"


	7. Chapter 7

"What did he say to get you so mad, _amigo_?" asked Sombra as she ran her nail across McCree's shoulder and up his neck.

"He was insultin' my instrument n' sayin' I can't please a man! Sayin' his is bigger!"

"Aw, _pobrecito_. Well, he does have a stereotype defyingly large penis..." she said kneeling and speaking into his ear so it was the only thing he could hear.

"What?"

McCree's eyes wandered to between Jun's boxing shorts. Lo and behold an uncanny bulge was rolling between his legs.

"But," she continued as she massaged his shoulders, "like everything here, its not real. I checked his medical records. He got it surgically enhanced."

"What in tarnation?"

"Something to think about while you fight..." she coaxed, "go get 'em tiger."

The fight bell clanged and McCree stepped to the center of the ring with his eyes weirdly fixated on Jun's shorts.

"You got a lucky hit there, sunshine," said Jun prancing on his feet. McCree shook to. He hated this man with his life. "Don't expect to be so lucky this time."

In seconds he was fighting on his back foot as Jun pummeled his face. McCree tried to dodge and set up shots so he could hit Jun's shoulder but the fight still seemed one sided. It was clear Jun was in pain but was taking great effort to protect his arm.

Three minutes and the bell clanged. McCree sloshed himself back to his corner. This time Hanzo was there.

"Jesse, I've informed Jun that you've proven your worth, I do not desire to see you two injure each other over me. You can end the fight now without forfeiting the duel," he said.

"No sirree, I'm in it for the long haul..."

"Typical pride. I knew you wouldn't accept so I've requested medical staff to attend to you. Good luck," he scoffed.

Sombra uncloaked next to McCree as Hanzo left. Her devilish blue eyes rolled to over to the exhausted cowboy. He had an impetuous look on his face.

"You're continuing the fight?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Good..." she said raising his flask to his mouth with a smile, "very good."

The bell rang and McCree dutifully swaggered in. The fighters tangoed for 3 minutes as Sombra watched on looking very stimulated. Jenny ran to her side as she leaned over the ropes.

"I have no idea what's going on!" she complained, "why are they fighting?"

Sombra hushed her. Suddenly, the crowd gasped. McCree had just been hit with a staggering uppercut and lay flattened out in the ring. The referee started his count.

"One!" he shouted.

He watched Sombra’s purple feet step into his field of vision. She lowered her head to speak to him. Her voice was warbled, sounding as if she were very far away.

"McCree," she whispered, "McCree, you can't quit now..."

"Two!"

"A guy with a bigger d- than you is gonna beat you in a boxing match..."

McCree snorted to consciousness.

"Three!"

"Like hell he is!" he shouted.

McCree stood and pushed the referee away. The fight bell rang and McCree went after Jun’s shoulder with all his fury. After the round was over. EMT's attended to McCree, giving him water and checking his pupils to make sure he was fit to fight.

"Get out of here!" shouted Sombra, shooing the medics away, "I know what he needs!"

She put his whiskey flask to his mouth.

"You've only got a few more rounds, you've got to show this fake dicked _mamón_ who's boss," she whispered into his ear, "send him to hell."

The fight bell clanged and McCree pounded his gloves together and marched himself to the center of the ring.

Sombra turned to Jenny and smiled wistfully. "I’m pretty sure he’s killing himself..."

* * *

It was the final round. Both fighters were exhausted and tremendously injured. Jun couldn't hold his left arm up from Jesse’s enraged pummeling. Jesse, meanwhile, was a mound of cuts and bruises from Jun's accurate and painful punches.

The fighters tussled with Jun managing to burst out with a few hits but by the end Jesse was still standing.

"And the winner is... Jun 'The King' Yoon!"

The referee raised Jun’s arm.

No one expected differently. Sporadic apprehensive applause came from the bleachers. Even Jun's entourage was exasperated by the bizarre spectacle of manliness. After the match Hanzo approached McCree in the changing room as he was being propped up by Sombra.

"What an alarming display of alcoholism and self-destructive pride!" he said storming towards Jesse.

"What, yer not honored?" McCree grinned with a black eye.

"To be completely honest, I am disappointed in the both of you."

"Aw, Han. I'm goin' through hell for you!"

"Indeed, I wish you wouldn't. But I seem to have no choice in the matter," Hanzo turned to Sombra, "you, purple woman. I will attend to Jesse from here and see that he is properly taken care of."

"Suits me," said Sombra dropping him, "come on, Jenny. Let's go…"

***

Hanzo took the injured cowboy to his quarters. It was a sparsely decorated Japanese themed suite, completely different from the moddish colors and fake fur of the rest of the hotel.

“I designed this room for meditation so I could get away from this garish city.”

“Well, it suits you,” noted McCree eyeing the room, “ain’t nothin’ like the rest of this place.”

The trickling of the water fountain on the terrace and the sound of furin wind chimes calmed McCree. Hanzo slid open the shōji doors to let in the warm night air then sat McCree down on his futon. McCree watched Hanzo’s back as he retrieved medical supplies from a hidden compartment.

“This is a microized biotic field emitter,” he said kneeling in front of McCree with the device, “it should heal your wounds.”

He took the emitter in his palm and activated it then slowly glided it over McCree’s inflamed bruises. McCree swallowed from Hanzo’s closeness but he couldn’t help but feel that Hanzo’s motions were restrained and asexual. The tingle of the device on his skin made Jesse feel as though there were a thick psychic field between the two men and Hanzo was somehow reaching through with his reserved affection. He yearned for the moment Hanzo would let down his guard and touch him without reservation, the way he used to.

“Yer new man doesn’t mind that yer hanging out with me?”

“He knows.”

“Boy, that ego on him, he can strut sittin’ down. How does he know you won’t fall fer me?” McCree joked.

No response. Hanzo remained silent as he continued his work. McCree sighed.

“I gotta be honest, you’re a high class man, Han n’ I know you can’t tolerate nothing but the real deal but I can’t see your taste for this fella.”

“Its merely an act, he is a different man in private.”

“Even I can see he’s all hat n’ no cattle. He’s faker n’ hell!”

Hanzo humphed. “Even a fool could notice you two are alike. However, I don’t want that encouraging you.”

Despite Hanzo’s coolness. McCree’s heart jumped just a little.

“Tell me I got a chance, Han,” Jesse couldn’t help but blub.

Hanzo retracted the device and sighed.

“I will be honest, Jesse. I am impressed. After seeing your dedication, I wonder if Jun would have endured the same for me. However, every sensibility tells me I don’t want a man who will destroy himself for me.”

“Well shucks...”

* * *

_Later..._

McCree sat pensively in his cowboy getup on the edge of his bed with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He drew his Peacemaker and inspected it. Tomorrow he’d use it to show up Jun. Suddenly, he heard the door unlock. Sombra sauntered in and plopped herself on the bed with a satisfied smile.

"Where have you been?" grunted McCree.

"Hanging out at Jenny's other jobs. She's a stripper at another Western themed joint and an 'oyster girl' at this seafood place. She wears a shell bikini. I fuck her between shifts."

McCree let out a half-impressed chuckle. "Really, n’ that's keeping you entertained?"

"No, I've also been hacking slot machines," she said pulling out a small stack of hundreds from her coat.

"What in the hell? Put that away!"

“ _You_ put it away,” Sombra retorted. She flopped on her back and sighed. “Ever watch an oiled up girl ride a mechanical bull, _amigo_?” Sombra squeezed her fists and let out an enthused groan. “Nnng! Jenny’s so fake and hot it drives me nuts.”

McCree rolled his eyes. Sombra turned and hit him. “ _Vete a la mierda,_ you’re gay for dudes, you don’t get it.”

“She any good?” he said with an eyebrow raise.

“I don’t care, she does it wearing only a bandanna and cutoffs.” McCree eyed her skeptically at this remark. “I mean, she doesn’t fall off...”

McCree thought for a moment then nodded in approval. “Maybe Jenny’s a little more cowgirl than I thought.” Suddenly, an odd thought crossed his mind. He turned to Sombra and glared at her.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“What’s with you n’ this cowgirl, all a’ the sudden?”

Sombra’s eyes shifted. “Nothing...” she replied. McCree humphed and turned back to minding his gun. Suddenly, he felt Sombra’s paws on him. “Come on McCree, just fuck me!”

“Aw, this again!? Get offa me ya sleazy bisexual!”

“You can just fuck me in the ass and pretend I’m a dude!” she pined.

“You ain’t got no respect! Git yer head on straight, I know _fer a fact_ you wouldn’t want nothing to do with me if I wasn’t gayer ‘n hell!”

“I knoowwwww,” moaned Sombra, clawing at the sheets.

McCree stood and fixed his hat, letting Sombra writhe on the bed. “I’m goin’ out n’ gettin’ a guitar. I reckon the next contest is in the bag so I better focus on my song. If you wanted to make yourself useful you could give me some a’ that chink you got.”

“What?” asked Sombra, pausing her writhing.

“Yer green, you know, the ill-cheddar.”

“Sometimes the way you speak, McCree...” she replied taking the stack of hundreds out of her coat and handing it to him, “is just so _extra._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story got an unexpected amount of hits and kudos but I have no idea if I jumped the shark. I'd love comments!


	8. Chapter 8

McCree surveyed a rack of identical looking acoustic guitars in a hole-in-the-wall guitar shop off the strip and frowned.

"Um, need help finding anything?"

The employee was a wiry nerdy looking fellow with short blond hair. He sounded a little intimidated.

"Yeah, I'm looking for a guitar with a distinctive sound. I got a couple thousand to blow"

"Heh, you're in the wrong section." He brought McCree over to a different rack with a variety of traditional and futuristic looking acoustic guitars. "Try this one," he said pulling a guitar down and holding it out for McCree, "it's got a 14-fret body with unidirectional carbon-fiber top and fiberglass/carbon-fiber hybrid back and sides, offset soundhole, scoop-style cutaway, carbon-fiber bracing, a gloss polyurethane finish, and compensated bone saddle"

McCree squinted at the guitar, then the nervously smiling employee. He spit.

"Yeah, I'll try it," he replied reluctantly, grabbing the guitar and seating himself on a stool.

"Oh my God, did you just spit in here?"

McCree ignored him and strummed a few lines.

"Naw, it's got no soul, it's all gussied up. Gimme an old fashioned guitar without the trimmings," he said handing the instrument back.

"OK, how about this," said the blond man, taking down a sunset colored guitar and handing it to McCree, "it's made of fine-grain European spruce that's baked in a controlled environment so it behaves like old wood. The back and sides are straight-grained mahogany."

McCree took the guitar and strummed it skeptically.

"It's better but where can I get an actual old guitar? I don't want one that _sounds_ old. I want one that _is_ old."

The employee cleared his throat impatiently. "You can go ahead and look at our pre-owneds. I can't tell you much about them but you seem to have your own preferences," he said gesturing to the back of the shop.

McCree tipped his hat and swaggered on to the back to try a few guitars. On his way he happened to notice a neglected looking guitar lying on the repair counter. He picked it up by the neck. The marquee read "Martin." The rosewood body was ancient with the veneer having worn off long ago, it quite noticeably sported a hole from wear under the bridge nearly reaching the sound hole.

"Oh my gawd," muttered McCree. He turned to the store clerk. "Hey, how much for this one?"

"Oh, you don't want that. Some new employee let a grandma exchange that. He should be fired."

"I'll take it."

"What? You don't even want to try it?" he asked incredulously.

"Nope. How much?"

The employee squinted and rubbed the top of his head as he thought of how much he could gouge the drunk cowboy. "Oh, 500 dollars?"

"Done. I'll take a one of them cases too."

McCree was rung up. He swaggered out with the guitar strapped over his shoulder and a most uncharacteristic smile plastered across his face.

 

* * *

 

As McCree made his way towards his hotel room he saw Jenny storm out of the room with her lip quivering. She cast McCree a hurt look then rushed past him.

"Aw hell, what's she done now? muttered McCree as he stepped into his room.

"McCree, you're back," noted Sombra as she lay herself elegantly on the bed.

"Saw Jenny outside, looked none too happy."

"I broke up with her when I noticed someone was on the guest list."

"And that would be?"

"Hana Song, the South Korean pro gamer."

McCree cocked an eyebrow at her. "Didn't you tell me you tried to kill her?"

"Yes, _and?_ " she replied impatiently.

McCree let out a disapproving grunt. "Boy, you got a sick mind," he grumbled. "What's she doing here with a bunch of greasers?"

Sombra flicked her hair and ignored him. "Get your guitar?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am, n' she's a beaut," he said laying the case on the bed and opening it.

Sombra eyed the old guitar skeptically as McCree beamed proudly. "It's got a hole in it, McCree. You were ripped off."

McCree's face shifted into a righteous stink eye. "Don't you know nothin' about music? It adds a wholesome quality to the sound."

"The _hole_ adds a _wholesome_ sound? Are you _drunk_?"

"Don't question it, it's like Willy Nelson!" replied McCree raising his voice in offense, "I'll be damned if this isn't just like his guitar!"

"OK, McCree, whatever you say," she replied laying back on the bed, "so, what song are you gonna play?"

"Not sure, I gotta get reacquainted with my singin' voice," he said with a sigh, "it’s definitely been a minute..."

Sombra stretched then picked herself up off the bed. She didn't seem to care. "I'm going out, I'll need the room when I get back."

McCree eyed her disapprovingly.

"Don't do nothin' I wouldn't."

Sombra chuckled. "Just don't think about it..."

* * *

McCree sat on the hotel room's desk chair with his feet up on the bed and his hat perched low over his eyes. The guitar rest on his belly as he sat in thought. He'd been practicing a few songs but felt non-committal towards any of them. He needed a love song that would win him Hanzo back no matter what, that would connect with him and show him how much he felt for him. The task was daunting.

Suddenly, Sombra burst in with a young looking Asian girl in a rockabilly outfit hanging herself around her neck.

"Hey, Jesse," said Sombra with a salacious grin, "I, uh, need the room."

McCree put aside the guitar and stood. He regarded the girl for a moment. She was hot and bothered but the look in her eye told McCree that she _really_ didn't like Sombra. His instinct said the girl was 19 at most, a bit young for a woman like Sombra to be messing around with.

"Ya'll play nice now, ya hear?" he said with a hat tip then was on his way.

The girl's eyes tracked McCree as he made his way out. The door closed with a click.

* * *

After a 10 rounds of Texas Hold'em and a couple shots at the hotel bar, McCree figured whatever Sombra was doing to Hana was probably well over with.

He returned to the hotel room to find Sombra gagged and handcuffed to the bed in her lingerie.

"Figured it would get weird," muttered McCree ducking out.

"You, hold it right there!" said Hana leveling her gun at McCree's head.

McCree was rushed from behind by a group of greasers and tackled to the floor.

"Damn..." Jesse muttered—though to anyone listening, he really could have sounded more torn up about it.

The lead greaser sauntered in front of McCree with a conniving smile. It was Johnny from the other night. "Remember me?" he said sticking his face into McCree's as he frantically chewed his bubble gum. The greasers closed the door and restrained McCree as Johnny relieved him of his Peacemaker and tossed the heavy pistol towards Hana.

Sombra spit out the makeshift gag. "Sorry, Jesse, she's working for Jun. I walked right into it."

"You ain't sorry!"

"Shut it!" threatened Hana, "Jun says you cheated by looking into his medical history so he wants to even the odds..."

Sombra and McCree blinked at Hana as Johnny chewed. The greasers exchanged glances in the awkward silence.

"How?" asked Sombra finally.

"Shut up! I'm thinking!" shouted Hana, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her arms down in a tantrum.

Johnny whistled and pointed to McCree's guitar. “How ‘bout that there gee-tar?”

Hana unscrewed her eyes and turned to the instrument. She smiled evilly. "Yeah... that'll work," she said picking up the venerable instrument, "huh, its already broken. Here Johnny, you can have the honors, my beef is with Sombra."

Johnny swaggered over and took the guitar in hand, eyed its length then held it by its neck over his head.

"Aw hell, not Trigger..." muttered McCree as the guitar's shadow loomed over his face.

Johnny unceremoniously smashed it over Jesse’s head with a reverberating _Twang!_ He stepped back and regarded his handiwork with a chuckle. McCree's head had burst straight through the middle, he now wore the guitar like a collar.

Johnny leaned down to McCree's level. "I like that color on you, McCree," he mused, rubbing Jesse's hat into his head as he obnoxiously chewed his gum in his face. "They're all yours, Ms. Song. Lets go boys."

Once the greasers piled out of the room, McCree stood with a drunken stumble then carefully removed the broken guitar collar from around his neck.

"I reckon I deserved that," he grumbled, "Sombra, I gotta go get another guitar. I'll be back in a few."

He wobbled over to Sombra's coat and pulled out another stack of hundreds as Hana kept her gun drawn on him. "Ma'am," said McCree with a tip of his hat to Hana and was on his way.

Sombra haphazardly pulled against her restraint to rattle the metal then eyed Hana wolfishly from behind her makeup laden eyes.

"So, what are you gonna do to me, _amiga_? Are you gonna teach me a lesson?"

 * * *

_Back at the guitar place…_

"You're back," said the blond fellow from before.

"Yeah, you got any guitars that won't break on a man's head?"

 * * *

_Back at the hotel…_

McCree undressed to his boxers and crawled into the absurd bed with fake fur trimmed pillows. Sombra snuggled on his shoulder looking satisfied as he lay back on the pillow with his hands behind his head.

"So how'd it go with you and Hana?" he asked staring at the empty television from under his hat.

"As far as BDSM goes, it was pretty light, she pulled my hair, smacked me around—"

"Spare the details, Sombra," said McCree through his teeth.

Sombra sighed. "Yeah, she cried a lot, confessed she was jealous and afraid of me and that she hated me more than anything in the whole world, said I ruined her life. Then we fucked"

"Pardon?"

"Well, she said some of that while we were fucking," corrected Sombra, regarding her nails, "to be honest."

"Is this some lesbian thing er what?" asked McCree incredulously.

"Oh, she's straight. I think she just, like, didn't know how to get revenge. So, I helped her think of something."

"I give up with you, yer evil or _something_ ," grumbled McCree rolling on his side, "'night, Sombra, you crazy bitch."

"'night, _culo._ "


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang realizes they're problematic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I can't even post this.

McCree awoke with a loud groan from under his hat. Sombra stirred and shoved her pillow in his face. He took the pillow off with a decisive pull and looked out from under his hat with one wandering crab eye.

"Greasers..." he muttered with determination, "today's my day."

"God damn it, McCree," groaned Sombra, "how do you always wake up without an alarm?"

"I wake up once I feel sober," he said exchanging his cowboy hat for the one sitting on his dresser and grabbing his flask. He extracted from it his rolling tobacco and papers and, after adeptly rolling a cigarette on his tummy, was soon smoking and drinking in bed against the hotel's regulations.

"You're horrible, you think I have a problem?" noted Sombra grumpily, rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist.

"We all have our habits. I gotta tell you, I ain't much without my whiskey and cigs..." he said sitting up and squinting as he took a drag, "besides, my vices are legal n' wholesome, you got yerself some _nasty_ habits."

Sombra raised her eyebrows and sucked on her teeth. Aye, she did. Nothing to say there. "Gimme that," she said snatching the pocket flask from McCree's hands. She tilted her head back to take a gulp. "I feel like I have to get on your level." She wiped her mouth as she felt her saliva become thick from the nasty whiskey.

"Don't blame ya, this whole thing is surreal..." he said rubbing his face, "had a sober thought while I was gettin' to sleep though. Why do you think homeboy's trying to protect his medical records. I mean, how'd he even find out you was snooping? Yer supposed to be good."

Sombra shrugged. "Dunno, Muh-Cree. Maybe he just put two and two together. You punched him in a weak spot no one knows he has. Its like induction."

"Right, _induction_ is why I got my ass-kicked with my own guitar last night," McCree grunted.

Sombra stepped out of bed with a sarcastic eye roll at this and stretched. She traipsed to her cat suit in her skimpy lingerie and wiggled herself in. McCree watched her indifferently as he smoked down his butt.

"What's with you and expensive lingerie? Even when you was a Los Muertos punk n' supposedly 'didn't care' you wore it," he asked.

"Its a latina thing, don't question it," she said looking up at him as she zipped her cat suit. He was grinning out of the side of his mouth. "What? Am I funny to you?"

"No ma'am, I just got a good feeling 'bout today is all..." McCree arose from bed, there was a dirty yellow stain from where he'd slept completely still throughout the night. He ran his tongue under his lip as he regarded it. "Its been about a month, reckon its time for a shower..."

"Oh yeah, and McCree, could you also brush your teeth?" Sombra asked passive aggressively, "This hotel has  _actual_ running water, not like your hovel. It smells like a family of raccoons moved into your mouth."

"Yeah, yeah, good mornin' to you too," he replied indignantly scratching his junk, "thought you had the hots fer me. What happened to that?"

"Yeah, but you won't fuck me so now I care how you smell."

"Women..." muttered McCree.

* * *

McCree swaggered into the gym for day two of his trials with Sombra in tow. This time the gym space was empty except for Jun's greasers, perhaps due to the dubious legality of the challenge. Jun stood waiting for him in the boxing ring as per the day before with the exception that he now wore an expensive looking white cowboy outfit. A few of his greaser minions stood behind him holding out a selection of firearms. A target stood at the end of the ring. Jun had been practicing in preparation for their duel. McCree couldn't help but chuckle as he caught sight of the shorter man's absurd outfit.

"McCree, you made it, early this time..." said Jun noticing McCree. He span his revolver in his hand as he talked. "Guess yer excitable 'cause you think you got the upperhand..." He suddenly stopped flaring his gun and held it pointed at McCree. "But I reckon I'm pretty good, 'cause I'm good at everything, 'cause I'm The King." He twirled the gun into his holster with a decisive motion.

Jesse folded his arms and humphed. This fellow had to be crazy if he thought he could best McCree in a gunfight.

"I gotta be honest, I'm worried 'bout you, Jun. I'm just not sure how yer going to survive this."

"Unlucky fer you, I ain't slow so we ain't usin' real bullets," Jun replied pointing at McCree, "besides, my hubby said he'd be a little sad if I killed you... and vice versa." He nodded his head apprehensively and looked off to the side. "Well, he did say it the other way first... _but that doesn't matter,_ 'cause I'm The King. Lets just get this done"

McCree shrugged cockily and sauntered to the stage. A greaser henchmen swaggered up to McCree and handed him a special bullet to load into his gun. "The hell's this?" asked McCree. He took it and investigated it suspiciously as the greaser silently turned in place and sauntered away combing his hair. Jun eyed him.

"What's up, cowpoke? I got that special so you could use that peashooter yer so sentimental about," said Jun with a grin, "Don't trust me? I ain't got no reason to fight dirty, not like you and yer purple beard"

Sombra huffed and folded her arms distrustfully. "Gimme that bullet, Jesse," she said extending her hand.

McCree spit and handed Sombra the bullet as he kept his eyes locked on Jun. Sombra held her hand over it and emitted an array of lasers from her holographic projector. They disappeared when she was certain they detected nothing unusual. Next, she gripped it and felt its weight. Finally, she tentatively bit the tip.

"Seems good," she said handing it back to McCree, "its a wax bullet."

"Right..." scoffed McCree.

He loaded it into his Peacemaker. It fit without a problem. Legit enough.

As they prepared for their ceremonial test of manly honor, Hanzo arrived with Hana and Johnny in tow. Sombra and Hana met eyes but Hana quickly averted her gaze with a pout.

"Both of you, I don't care if you're not using real bullets, you're toying with lethal weapons. Show the proper respect and duel with honor," Hanzo shouted as he approached the ring, "that means _no shots to the head._ "

McCree flared his gun in one hand and tipped his hat with the other. "Yeah, I ain't an ass..."

Jun cockily raised his eyebrows at McCree. "It's high noon, Jesse McCrotch. You ready? We count 10 paces, turn, and draw. Just like them old Westerns."

"Yeah, I know the dang rules," Jesse muttered, "but I gotta say, I'm used to doin' this near a riverside or somewhere outta the way. I guess I'm just old fashioned..."

"Puh," scoffed Jun, "yer downright _anachronistic_ , cowbum."

Sombra took a ringside seat and leaned back nonchalantly, resting her shoulders on the bleacher behind her as she dabbled with her haptic keyboard. Hanzo took his place on the center bleachers to observe the action. Hana had the honor of initiating the duel. She stood in the center of the ring and made sure the duelists were back to back and none had the advantage.

"One!" she counted. McCree took a heavy step according, jingling his rusty spurs in his wide stance. Jun's step had no such jingle. "Two!" Another step. McCree was in his element, he'd won any number of duels against folks who didn't take him seriously as a genuine cowboy. He guessed they thought this would be funny but McCree was the fastest draw in the West. "Three!" the count continued. McCree caught sight of Sombra, she looked almost bored as she fiddled with the hexagonal windows projected in her hand. The count drew out and McCree became meditative. He was the essence of calm and composure. The fastest cowgirl in the West. Wait cowgirl? No, that's not right. Why did he think that? He was a man or, rather, _is_ a man, the manliest man, never mind the size of his dick or its relative size compared to other peoples. At least that shit worked, most of the time, at least when he was feeling confident, which could be more often. In other words, he had sex. Not always decent but certainly with beautiful boys. At least, those were the ones he liked to remember to feel better about himself. Why was he thinking all this? Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he drank too much or not enough...

Before he knew it the count was at eight. "Nine!" Hana shouted. McCree shook to and regained himself as he took the next step. He was almost to the edge of the ring. He felt his heart begin to pound. This was it. "Ten!" He flared his gun hand in anticipation. "Draw!" His hand snapped to his gun like lightning as he spun around and lined up a shot for Jun's chest. He'd hit him right in the heart. Suddenly, however, his laser-like focus was shattered when he heard Sombra exclaim what he thought were the words "HOLY SHIT, HE'S TRA-!" before she covered her mouth with her hands. McCree's trigger finger flinched and he fired prematurely. His eye twitched as he was sure he fumbled the shot but he watched Jun fall to his knees with a horrified look on his face.

"What the fuck? You shot me in the dick!" Jun cried.

McCree blinked several times as his entourage of concerned greasers surrounded him. Hanzo stood to get a better view of the commotion. McCree held his stance in surprise as it dawned on him that he'd won.

"Ho shit, I won..." he muttered.

His eyes turned to Hanzo but Hanzo averted his gaze as if ashamed of him then hurried down to tend to his partner. _Why doesn't it feel like I won?_ It occurred to him that he ought to check on Jun to see if he was OK.

"Uh, Jun, you OK there, partner?" he said standing over him.

He let out an elaborate train of curses in Korean as he twisted on the ground before speaking. "You utter coward, you shot me in the dick?!" he shouted dropping his Elvis impersonation.

McCree took off his hat and knelt down. "Gotta say, it was a complete accident," muttered McCree, trying to summon an apologetic tone, "still counts, right?"

"Ugh, you piece of shit yankee wannabe cowboy!" groaned Jun, "yeah, it counts, but only because I don't trust you enough to duel again! Get out of my sight!"

"Yessir," said McCree donning his hat and getting out of his sight.

The medical personnel Jun kept on station for the duel shooed the concerned gangsters away and brought him aside. McCree stood awkwardly off to the side as they worked, trying to gauge what the appropriate level of concern should be for a mortal enemy. He turned to Sombra. She was still frozen, eyes wide, in the position she'd let out her yell in. McCree stepped over to her curiously.

"Uh, Sombra? You OK?"

Her eyes wandered up to McCree. "Um, yeah, _amigo?_ "

"Did you say that someone was somethin' or another while I was duelin' miniature Elvis over here, 'cause that kinda threw me off."

"Nope. No, I didn't say anything"

McCree looked at her in concern then gave a tentative half-smile. "I reckon its kinda funny I shot 'em in the dick, all things considered."

"Its not funny, Jesse"

He gave her an incredulous look. "What? Why, you were callin' him a fake dicked son-of-a-b just the other day, goadin' me on like some kinda devil woman!"

"Its not fake, I mean, just because he had it worked on doesn't mean its not real," she replied defensively.

McCree raised an eyebrow and squinted at her skeptically. "What's with you? Its like yer takin' his side all a' the sudden."

"I looked deeper into his records, McCree..."

The two friends stared at each other intensely as the gears spun in McCree's head. She watched his expression change from the dawning of a sudden realization and slowly nodded at him. McCree took off his hat and sat down in utter exasperation.

"Holy shit, I'm an asshole..." he muttered as he planted his face in his hand. Sombra bit her lip as she tried to think of what to say. "Dang, I need a drink. Then I guess I'll mosey on out n' crawl into a garbage can..." McCree's eyes widened and he exhaled as a round of unfortunate implications hit his brain. "Shyyiit, n' we been pryin' into his medical records n' everythang."

Sombra scratched her head as she looked up in thought. "To be fair, that hasn't stopped him from being a prick to you," she offered.

"Yeah, but maybe its all an act, not like an _act_ act, like his Elvis thing, but his ornery disposition. I mean, Han goes for an alpha kinda guy..." McCree ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. "Man, I got here actin' all crazy-like, challengin' him to a duel. Maybe he feels _threatened_ by me."

Sombra tapped on her lip as she watched the EMTs carry Jun away behind McCree's head. "Lets not go too far, _amigo_. Look, we're all—how do I put this?— _different_ here. We've all got our struggles and none of us are, like, upstanding citizens. We're outside the law, we play by different rules. You came here to get what you wanted and you've got the power to do it. So _finish the job_ and take what's yours."

"But I got principles, Sombra! I'm tryna be the better man!"

" _Aiae ya_ , but that's bullshit. Look how much trouble its run you guys into..."

"Hanzo ain't gonna want me back if I'm a piece of shit!" said McCree, raising his voice as he stood in frustration, "look, I'm callin' this whole thing off. I'll go to Jun and apologize n' just get on with my sorry life. Ain't no use bein' a bother to people when I'm not wanted."

Sombra put up her hands. "Fine, _pendejo._ I'm here if you change your mind..."

She watched McCree mosey out after Jun and noted the eyes of the greasers tracking him as he left. If things went the way they did the other day, Jun's gang would be after McCree in just a matter of time and he'd come crawling back. In the meantime, she looked around the room for something to amuse her. To her surprise, she caught Jenny entering the gym looking flustered and teary eyed.

* * *

McCree knocked on the suite where Jun and Hanzo were staying. To his surprise, Johnny "The Rocket" Blade came to the door.

"We're expecting you," he said ominously as he obnoxiously chewed his gum.

Jesse grunted in disdain but secretly felt a drop of anxiety hit his stomach. What the hell did they have in store for him? He followed Johnny into the vintage Las Vegas suite, Elvis iconography adorned the walls. The small vestibule gave way to a large room with a circular bed and a reclining couch. Jun lay on the bed in a burgundy bathrobe and sunglasses, his hairy ankles peaking out from under the long robe. Noticeably, there was a massive round bump between Jun's legs from where the medics had bandaged him. Some of Jun's entourage was present: two greaser girls reclined on the couch in their fitted flannel shirts and waist high jeans, their hair tied up in polka dotted bandannas, while several Johnnies casually looked on in their leather jackets in the corner.

"Jesse McCree, the dickless dick shooter," he said disdainfully, "that's what they'll be callin' you, baby cakes."

"Now I'm not here to cause trouble, I'm tellin' you I want to apologize. I'm callin' this whole thing off. I made a fool of myself so I'm packin' my saddlebags n' going home. You win," said Jesse with a shrug, "you can go n' tell that to Hanzo. I ain't causin' no more trouble..."

"That's funny, ain't it Johnny?" replied Jun after staring at McCree unamused for about 30 seconds.

"Yeah, pretty funny, boss"

"'cause the way I see it, you challenged me to a duel. The Southern code of honor says you can't just back out. You gotta finish."

"The what?" asked McCree.

" _Them rules_ , cowprick," said Jun sticking his neck out, "Johnny, show 'em the rules!" He carelessly gestured towards his henchmen.

Johnny pulled out his iPhone and Googled "Code Duello" then pushed the phone in front of McCree's face showing him the first result. McCree squinted as he read.

"How do I go down? I wanna read the rest," he grumbled.

"Are you serious, partner? You touch to scroll. You never use one of these fuggin' things?"

"No, an' I ain't keen on learnin'!" he said waving him off, "look, I reckon I can forfeit the duel honorably if I make it a formal gesture with witnesses. So I'm tellin' you how it is!"

Johnny pocketed his phone and pulled his leather jacket's collar snug with a quick motion. The room stared at McCree in hostile silence until Jun spoke. "Hey, Johnny-boy, you hear what this Jesse McCrap guy is sayin'?"

"Nope boss, I ain't heard a thing," Johnny replied brushing off his shoulder with a frown.

"How 'bout you ladies?"

"Nope, boss, sounds like he's startin' trouble to us... Want us to take care of this guy?"

"Don't sweat it darlins," he said then turned back to McCree. "Lemme tell ya'll how it is... 'cause I'm The King," Jun started with a disdainful lip curl, "you ain't got witnesses, so you leave now n' yer a coward for life. And between you and me, darlin', I reckon you mighta _heard_ somethin' about me n' that's why you shot me in old Dixie. Or maybe yer just a dang fool and did it by accident like you said. Either way, you shot me in the dick in front of my friends n' put me at what they call a 'competitive disadvantage' for our little contest tomorrow since I gotta a bevy a' pelvic thrustin' to do. So there's only one way we can get even... Now you wanna keep yer honor er what?"

McCree gulped.

Before he knew it, Jesse was wincing in anticipation as he stared at the ceiling of Jun's corny hotel room with an ear full of Johnny "The Rocket" Blade's obnoxious gum chewing as he restrained his arms behind his back.

"Lucky fer you, darlin', wax bullets is cheap," said Jun loading his revolver and aiming it between McCree's legs.

"I can't believe I'm doin' this..." Jesse muttered.

"Uh huh, you better believe it, this is what happens when you mess with The King."

The revolver fired with a massive kick launching the wax bullet directly into McCree's nuts.

"GOT DANG IT, THAT SMARTS!" he howled in pain.

"Not gonna lie, honey," said Jun handing the smoking discharged pistol to a henchmen with an evil smile, "the doc said you ruptured somethin' _bad_ , I'm bandaged between the legs to Jesus n' back. Fortunate fer me the sum-a-bitch takes house calls. Hope you got insurance, doggy."

"JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!"

"Aight, get this knockoff cowboy outta here an' lets see whats on the TV," cursed Jun, gesturing to his men.

McCree was hauled to the door and tossed on his chin outside the suite. The door slammed behind him followed by a muffled shout of "I'm The King!" Jesse writhed in pain then struggled to stand. Once sufficiently recovered he noticed Sombra standing by the door regarding her nails.

"You weren't going to help me?" he asked in frustration, clearly quite pained.

Sombra fanned her vicious nails at him. "I wouldn't want to hurt you," she replied coolly, "so, how'd it go with Jun? Bet you feel pretty honorable right now, huh?"

"I swear to God, Sombra. One of these days yer gonna rub me the wrong way..." he groaned.

"Aw, _pobrecito,_ I'm just not happy if no one wants to kill me," she said slipping her arm under his shoulder to support him, "lets get you back to the room, yeah?"

* * *

Sombra hauled McCree back to their suite. To his surprise, Jenny was waiting in the room.

"Hey, Jen, help me out with stagecoach here," called Sombra as she tried to get him through the door.

Jenny ran to his other side for support and helped Sombra dump him on the bed. He lay out with his legs splayed and groaned.

"I swear to God, my nuts feel like they dun rocketed into my stomach. I'm gonna hurl."

"Don't do that, McCree..." murmured Sombra in a sing-song. "Jenny, can you help him out?"

"Yeah, I used to be an EMT. I wanted to go to medical school."

"Are you serious? What happened?"

"Um, stripping and bar tending paid too well..." she explained apprehensively, "where's he hurt?"

"He was shot in the nuts by a Korean Elvis impersonator."

"With a wax bullet," McCree added deliriously, "it was wax, Jesus H. Christ, _wax_. I been shot before and this feels worse than a real one."

"Oh, boy," muttered Jenny, "let me just take a look..." She slipped off McCree's slacks and now dirty and yellowed 2(x)ist briefs. "OK, ew," she murmured under her breath.

Sombra handed McCree a bottle of whiskey from the crate they'd smuggled in and got a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. Meanwhile, Jenny investigated his nuts for the sign of any severe trauma. Sombra peered over Jenny's hands to look at McCree's package which appeared to be trying to retreat into his body for protection.

"Jesse, do you trim down there?"

"Yes..."

Sombra shook her head and chuckled. "You never shower but you find time to trim your balls and pubic hair... Wow, _pendejo,_ " she leaned in for a better look, "you tweeze too? You don't even shave your beard, McCree."

"Lay off, I been shot in the testicles and yer roastin' me fer my groomin' habits," complained McCree after he took a swig, "shit, I'm supposed to be workin' on a song and instead I gotta listen to you and work on keepin' my friggin' nuts inside my nut sack."

"Well, they _are_ shriveled pretty high up there but you're not bleeding or anything, they just look like really-really bruised."

"Ain't that a treat, sister. Can you do anything about it?" said McCree taking another pull of whiskey.

"Besides putting ice on them, not really."

"Well, that's just capital," McCree cursed, "I feel like I can't embarrass myself enough tonight so put 'em on ice, bet they can't get any smaller n' they already are..."

They called room service for a bucket of ice and made him a cold compress with a hand towel. After some time he was either drunk enough or recovered enough to feel that he could sit up and practice guitar. Jenny and Sombra cuddled on the bed as McCree strummed a few songs on his new guitar and tried to get his voice in tune. Periodically he would pause and take the ice scoop, graciously provided by room service, and shovel a load of ice into his underwear.

" _There goes my only possession, There goes my everything... I hear footsteps slowly walking, As they gently walk across a lonely floor, And a voice is softly saying, Darling, this will be forever more... There goes my reason for living-"_ sang McCree in his gruff country singing voice.

"Christ, Jesse," interrupted Sombra, "you're trying to seduce him not depress him!"

"Its how I feel! An' what country love song ain't depressing!?" he retorted.

"Hit 'em with something sexier, cowboy," encouraged Jenny.

McCree returned a flat smile and exhaled from his nostrils. "Alright, I don't reckon I can outdo lil' Elvis at his own gig but try this on." He cleared his throat. " _Are you lonesome tonight, Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day, When I kissed you and called you sweatheart? Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again? Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?"_

Sombra stuck out her tongue. "Its sappy. Also, you might be laying it on Hanzo a bit thick, know what I'm saying?"

Jenny sighed. "But its romantic, it reminds me of a booty call from an ex but like classier."

Sombra raised an eyebrow at her.

"It ends a little dark fer my tastes," noted McCree, "speakin' of which, when'd you two get back together?"

"After you left to get shot in the dick, now we're in a poly-amorous relationship," replied Sombra mouthing through all the syllables of poly-amorous. She turned to Jenny with a conniving smile. "Did I say that right, _mija_?"

"Yeah, you did, BB," Jenny giggled. She was all too infatuated with Sombra.

"I'm almost a decade older than her, I don't know these young people terms..." she said putting her arm around Jenny with a sort of mocking affection.

McCree cleared his throat. He could tell Sombra was fucking with her. "Sorry I asked," he muttered before striking up a new song, "I got a good one, listen to this. _I fall to pieces, Each time I see you again, I fall to pieces, How can I be just your friend? You want me to act like we've never kissed, You want me to forget, Pretend we've never met, And I've tried and I've tried, But I haven't yet, You walk by and I fall to pieces..."_

Sombra blinked at him. "It blows my mind you can sing, McCree," she sighed, "even if it is a little gravelly."

"Guess I can go a bit higher too now that my nuts've been sanctified," he noted darkly, "'scuse me a moment..."

He took a scoop of ice from the bucket and poured it down his pants before continuing to serenade them with his twangy new guitar.


	10. Chapter 10

McCree lazily strummed a few lines of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" as he sat pensively. Jesse wasn't fully satisfied with the instrument, however, it still sounded too crisp and twangy for him—too new. He performed a few more tunes for them as they snuggled with each other on the bed but they didn't see eye to eye with him on his taste in 20th century country music. Again he came away feeling non-committal towards any of his songs. What would get through to Hanzo?

He sighed and put his guitar aside.

"Ima take a leak," he muttered.

"Sure..." replied Sombra as she pushed aside a lock of hair from Jenny's face. She was only half-way interested in whatever McCree was saying.

"Right..."

With a groan he stood and lumbered towards the bathroom with wide belabored steps. Sombra and Jenny began to kiss more intimately as McCree left their line of sight.

In the bathroom McCree emptied out the ice from his trousers and stared at the pink ceiling as he tried to take a leak. Anxious thoughts coursed through his head. Did he really have a chance with Hanzo? Would he actually call off the wedding with Jun if he won? Could he win at all or was this all just an absurd performance for nothing? He sighed as he tried to relax his damaged water works.

What about this whole Las Vegas trip? His brain was all twisted up. At first he'd thought it was all fake and he could just swagger through all the tinsel and trash of Las Vegas as the most authentic man around. Now it'd gone topsy-turvey and his authenticity, honor and manhood, his whole framework was upside down. Jun wouldn't let him out of his manly commitment without disgracing himself so he was honor bound to finish. McCree cursed his big mouth. He should've just stayed in Texas and wallowed in his gassed out hovel. What's a little misery compared to humiliation? Too late, he was in it now.

"Am I really a knockoff cowboy?" he asked the ceiling, "am I not a mayun?"

Then there was Sombra, was she a real friend? The more she helped the more of a hole she dug him in. How did she manage to have sex literally all the time? His thoughts turned to his balls. What if he couldn't get another erection ever again, would that make him less of a man? A man ought to be able to go out and gratify himself sexually after all. That kind of made Sombra a man, except she didn't have to worry about maintaining an erection, though she might have her own adequacy problems. Then there was  _that_. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of Hanzo having sex with Jun's oversized prick and focus on peeing. "Oh God, I'm in hell," he muttered. Finally, he was able shut out his neurotic thoughts and pee with a shudder.

He opened the door to see Sombra buried in Jenny's neck with her hand under her bra. Jenny squirmed and arched her back as she held the back of Sombra's head, she was into it. Sombra pointed at McCree with her free hand.

"Some privacy?" she asked, not missing a beat.

McCree grumbled discontentedly and left for the hotel bar.

At the bar he ordered a shot of whiskey and stared into the arrangement of liquors on the wall. He was keeping tabs on a gaggle of greasers drinking in a booth out of the corner of his eye. The Hana Song girl from the other day was there drinking and carrying on. McCree judged that she didn't look old enough to be of legal drinking age but he gathered that the bartender wasn't stupid enough to not serve a gang of armed greasers.

Two more shots in and Hanzo stepped in. McCree lowered his hat and slumped on the bar so he wouldn't notice him. Hanzo was quickly beckoned to the greasers and passed by McCree without noticing or more likely pretending to not notice. It looked like the greasers were amicable to him although the interaction seemed a little forced as they encouraged him to drink and banter. After another round or two and the thought entered Jesse's head that he ought to talk to Hanzo. They'd been caught up in the formality and tension of the duel, he still hadn't found the time to have a heart to heart with him. He needed to know if he had a chance.

McCree heard an amused laugh from Hana and turned his head. Hana was sitting on Hanzo's lap her face flushed from alcohol as she took a selfie. His smile looked a little nervous.

"What in 'tarnation?" muttered McCree.

After after a few more rounds Hana wobbled to the bathroom and came out looking green. Hanzo noticed the inexperienced drinker wasn't looking well and politely offered to take her to her room. She left with her head on his shoulder as Hanzo maintained a stiff upper lip. McCree ordered another round and began to build the gumption to go to Han's room and talk to him. He pounded his shot and made his way towards the elevator with struggling steps and a wide stance. In the lobby he caught sight of Jun heading towards the bar, doing the same pained walk in the same awkward stance.

They locked eyes as they approached each other with their painful deliberate steps.

"How's it hangin', cowbutt?" asked Jun with a grin.

McCree spit. "If its my family jewels yer referring to, they're dandy. Yerself?"

Jun's eyes tracked the wad of saliva hitting his expensive carpet then turned contemptuously to back McCree's. "I reckon they'll be fine enough for me n' my hubby's honeymoon. Speakin' a' which, you seen him around?"

"Nope"

Jun scowled. "Well, if he ain't down here, I guess I'll give his room another pass..."

"He wasn't there?" asked McCree.

The diminutive Elvis impersonator narrowed his eyes. "Nope. Why? You lookin' for him?" he asked, aggressively elongating the 'l' in 'looking.'

"Nope"

Jun grunted and raised his chin to look at McCree down his nose. "Well then, little doggy, I'm goin' back, guess yer ridin' with me"

"Pleasure'd be mine..."

Together they walked to the elevator in their wide stances. They rode in hostile silence with their pelvises thrust outward to relax their injured groins. McCree got off at his floor and slowly made his way to the suite. Upon entering he noticed Jenny laying belly first on the bed post-coitus with a number of hickies and bruises while Sombra sat in the window in her bra smoking. Jenny picked her head up and debated covering herself but decided she was too relaxed to bother. She'd seen his nuts anyways.

"'scuse me ladies, I was wonderin' if Sombra could help me out"

"Yeah, whats the problem?"

"I'm tryna find Hanzo, he left the bar with that Hana Song friend of yers"

Sombra raised an eyebrow then opened her haptic keyboard with a breath of smoke.

"Lets see... security footage shows him going into her room but there's none of him coming out," she said with a kind of tranquil boredom, "he's probably still there. Why?"

"I wanna talk to him and I ain't got all night. I'm fixin' to set some things straight before tomorrow so its gotta be now"

Sombra took another drag and exhaled. "Well, that's where he is," she replied waving the smoke out the window. She gave him the room and floor number and grinned cat-like. "Since you're dropping by, tell Hana I'm waiting for her"

Jenny frowned and lowered her eyes with a hint of sadness at this comment. McCree tipped his hat and was on his way. _What in the hell is Han doing?_ he thought on the way to the elevator. He pressed the down button and the doors opened with a ding. To his surprise, he saw Jun.

"Fancy seein' you here, Tombstone," he taunted. McCree pressed the button for Hana's floor but saw it was already illuminated. "Looks like we're goin' to the same floor..."

The doors closed.

Jesse looked at Jun sidelong then fixed his eyes on the elevator doors. They heard the elevator cables spool as the motor whirred. The gears turned in his head; there was no way he was going to that exact floor unless...

_Ding!_

Immediately, McCree pushed his hand into Jun's face and tried to scramble out. Jun recoiled and tripped him sending Jesse to the floor face first. Jun cackled "I'm the king!" as he lunged out the elevator doors but McCree grabbed his leg and he toppled down.

"Choke on a fist full a' Demerol, hound dick!" taunted McCree.

"Got dang you, Wyatt Derp! Yer late for a gunfight at the OK Corral _in hell!_ "

"Guess you ain't the king of comebacks, huh Graceland? "

"Shove it, sadsack loverboy, I got yer man so I'm the king a' yer sorry ass!"

They struggled and cursed each other down the hall until they bumped against Hana's door. McCree reached for the handle from the floor but it was locked.

"Of course its locked, old timer. What're you thick?" said Jun as he arose, "but I got me here the master key"

He pulled it out from the chest slit in his jumpsuit with a disdainful lip curl then tossed it back and forth between his hands.

"Give it here!" shouted McCree.

"Like hell!"

Jun kicked McCree in the nuts immediately toppling him to the floor like a bag of bricks then tried to open the door with the master key. To his chagrin, It made an unpleasant buzz. It was locked.

"What the hell happened?" asked McCree.

"She dun'n't work..." Jun muttered.

"Lemme see that!"

McCree collected himself and swiped the card from Jun's hand to try it himself. It buzzed negative again. They exchanged desperate glances.

"Fuck it. On three," spat McCree, "One. Two..."

They kicked in the door in a fit of spontaneous cooperation to an absurd sight. Hanzo was dressed in old-school lingerie, garter belt and all with a bunny ear headband. Hana sat next to him on the bed in the same outfit swooning over him with drunken infatuated eyes.

"What in 'tarnation?!" exclaimed McCree in desperate confusion, "Han!"

"Its not what it looks like!" he replied, "she bullied me into it!"

"Honey pie, yer experimentin' with women? Not two days before our wedding?" uttered Jun in equally hopeless bewilderment.

"Not at all, I was obliged to do it!" Hanzo retorted, crossing his arms, "she was incredibly drunk and aggressive and I am simply not accustomed to saying no to someone like her!"

The two men's eyes panned over to Hana. They were searching for an explanation. She folded her arms with a resentful pout saying nothing. However, after a few seconds it seemed as if she were holding something back and was going to pop.

"God damn it!" she finally squeaked falling back on the bed in a tantrum, "I just want revenge! Why can't I get someone to cheat on their fiancee with me? Why can't _I_ ruin people's lives? I'm a big deal! I can't get people to do things! Its like no one respects me!"

Jun's eye tweaked. "She dun lost it..."

McCree stood and took off his hat to regard the unusual tableau. "Han, since I got here you been in the most _ridiculous_ outfits..." he mused scratching his head, "so lemme get this straight, you brought Ms. Song back to her place then she _coerced_ you into this getup yer wearing?"

"That is correct. She was quite persistent"

"Its D.Va!" Hana interjected in her high-pitched voice.

"She ain't aggressive," scoffed Jun, looking at her from over his sunglasses, "she just downright spoiled..."

"But why?" asked McCree.

"I wanted to fuck him!" she asserted.

"Oh lord..." muttered Jun, "yer barkin' up the wrong tree, darlin'" A strike of doubt crossed his face and he turned to address Hanzo. "You wouldn't have, right, honey pie?"

"Never in a thousand years! I prefer the company of men!"

"Yeah right, I _totally_ seduced him," scoffed Hana with an eye roll.

"To be fair, Han. You always been a bit _passive_..." noted McCree rubbing his beard, "this lil' biddy might coulda bullied you into it"

Hanzo humphed and turned his head away. His bunny ears bobbed with the motion.

"Then blame yourselves!" he said spurning them, "its hardly different from what you aggressive buffoons have been putting me through. I hardly know what I want anymore!"

"Why, honey pie, we can talk this over, darlin'," said Jun trying to sound reasonable, "ain't no need to throw a fit!"

Hanzo took a breath then exhaled forcefully, his hair seemed to bristle. "I am sick of being a possession and I am exhausted by your embarrassing collective displays of hyper-masculinity! I desire to be alone!"

"But Han, I gotta talk to you, I need to know if I got a chance! I gotta set the record straight on my mistakes!" griped McCree holding his palms up.

"n' baby doll, I wanna know yer not gonna leave me fer yer ex-buffoon 2 days before we're consecrated!" whined Jun striking almost the same tone.

"I will see you both tomorrow to judge your absurd competition. I will give each of you my final answer in private! That is all!"

He grabbed his gi off the floor and stormed into the bathroom to change. Jun and McCree awkwardly eyed the walls to avoid eye-contact with a mutual sense of guilt as they waited for Hanzo to come out. When he emerged he blew by Jun and McCree, keeping his head low. As he passed, Jun held out his hands and blubbered, "aw, baby don't do this!"

Hanzo closed the door behind him with a slam. Jesse fixed his hat and exhaled uncomfortably. "That coulda gone better," he muttered.

"This is yer fault, Hondo"

Hana lifted her head to look at Jun. "Am I in trouble?" she groaned, "Does this mean I'm out of the gang?"

"No!" Jun snapped, holding his hand out towards her, "once yer a greaser, yer a greaser for life!" He whipped off his sunglasses. "But my hubby says the word and I'll take yer hand off fer touchin' on him n' makin' him feel all weird-like. So think on that"

"Whatever you say, daddy-o..."

He turned in place with sudden vigor but then strut out with pained steps. "Got dang it, think I pulled somethin'," he muttered as he made his way out.

McCree paused and looked at Hana in concern. She was staring angrily up at the ceiling with a pouty frown. He stepped over to her and knelt by the bed.

"Look, uh..." he started.

"D.Va"

"D.Va, whats goin' on with you?" he asked in earnest.

She blew some hair out of her eyes and looked up before she spoke. "I got drunk because I was pissed and just wanted to _hurt_ someone like it happened to me!" she said making claws with her hands, "seemed like a good idea"

"D.Va, alcohol ain't the answer... n' there ain't no good in spreadin' hurt around"

"You smell like cheap whiskey and old wet underwear. Bye." She grabbed her iPhone from the nightstand and turned on her front to fiddle with it.

Jesse raised an eyebrow then stood and fixed his hat. "Right. Guess I'll be on my way..." He moseyed on out but turned and spoke at the door. "Oh yeah, Sombra says she's waiting for you." He tipped his hat. "Evenin'"

Hana raised her shoulders and clenched her hands. "Humph!" she squeaked.

McCree clicked the door shut. "That lil' number's got two helpin's a crazy two times worth her age..." he said with an adamant nod.

As he made his way to the elevator it occurred to him that after all this he still didn't have his song...


	11. Chapter 11

McCree wandered on back to the hotel bar to find Jun leaned over with his palm against his forehead. He parked himself next to Jun and nodded to the bartender for his usual. By now they had a rapport. A shot of whiskey was plopped down in front of Jesse and he gulped it down in one fell swoop.

"The hell you drinkin' there?" asked McCree eyeing Jun's drink. The glass was conspicuously full.

"Peach brandy, The King wudn't much of a drinker..." Jun raised his head and turned to McCree with a scowl. "You got a lot a nerve comin' to my town n' startin' shit with me, Tex-ass"

"Well, I ain't exactly thought this through n' I tried to back out gracefully but yer holdin' me to my word," replied McCree contentiously. He pointed to the bartender indignantly and another drink was summoned. "Besides, this ain't yer town, yer town is in Korea," he said disdainfully pronouncing the syllables "co-ree-uh."

Jun laughed darkly.

"No, this here is _my town._ I own it n' I got lotsa friends. And, as they say in them old Westerns, there ain't enough room for the two of us."

"OK, partner. I don't reckon you intend anything _uncivilized_ by that comment?"

"No ma'am, you just better know, win or lose, you'll be watchin' your back from here on out, 'cause you messed with The King."

McCree humphed. "How 'bout we make ourselves a gentlemanly arrangement since it seems to me that Hanzo might choose neither of us and you _really_ don't want me as an enemy," said McCree swilling his shot, "so, you win and I won't set foot in Asian greaser territory ever again n' I'll leave you and Han alone. I win and you butt out between me and Hanzo n' you don't touch Shimada clan territory. If Han chooses neither of us, we'll just say you won."

He took the shot and pounded it down against the bar with a rattle.

"Ya'll have the better end of the deal. You know I want the Shimada empire whether I marry Han or not," said Jun, unimpressed.

"Yeah, but you'll have to go through me n' him and I can get mighty ugly when I intend to. Trust me lil' Presley, you want to keep this civil. Besides, if you win, I reckon I'll just spare you the trouble an do myself."

Jun narrowed his eyes.

"Well ain't you precious. You got a lot ridin' on that there song, better be good, cowbong."

"Oh its good alright, just dandy..."

Jun extended his hand. "Its a deal then," he said with an eyebrow raise, "partner."

McCree squinted his eyes at Jun and studied him for a few solid seconds then firmly locked hands and squeezed with a grin. "Deal."

* * *

_Many shots later..._

"What in the hell was I thinking!?" cursed McCree as he stumbled to the elevator, "I ain't got a song! I'm dumb as dirt! Why-o-why did I do that?!"

He stumbled his way back to the hotel room and fumbled with the keycard. After a few negative swipes it buzzed positive and unlocked. The lights were off and it smelled like body. He found the switch and flicked it to find Sombra sleeping nakedly between Jenny and Hana with her arms wrapped around their waists. Hana held Sombra jealously as she slept while Jenny slept peacefully satisfied. They squeezed their eyes shut and lowered their heads to block out the light and noise from McCree.

"What the hell, Jesse?" Sombra muttered.

"Oh nothin', I just dun killed myself!" McCree groaned, "guess I'm sleepin' in the bathtub before I die since you got half the town in there."

He flicked the lights back off and moped to the bathroom to sit in the tub.

"McCree, you're good at guitar and you can sing!" Sombra called from the bed, "besides, every asshole knows that a talent competition just determines who the judges like better. Just choose any fricking song!"

"I've listened to you enough! Yer Satan!" Jesse called back, "Whad'ya'll see in her anyhow? She's just sleepin' with you, Jenny, because you remind 'er a' me! 'n Hana, that _psychopath_ is just too dang old for you, darlin'. She'll crazy you up _good_ if she hasn't already."

"Oh boy, he got _really_ drunk," muttered Sombra.

Hana stirred. "Is he going to go on like that?" she asked.

"No, I'll shut him up," she said rising from bed to search for her lingerie. Once dressed, she stepped in the bathroom to find McCree in the bathtub with his knees up muttering to himself. "McCree! McCree!" she said grabbing his shoulders, " _relahate,_ _vacquero!_ You're drunk panicking!"

"Hell, I was just tryna do right by Hanzo n' defend his family's honor since this whole thing is half political, but I gone an' went n' raised the stakes! I said I'd off myself if I lost n' now if I don't do it I'll have greasers crawlin' out my ass every which way!"

"Was that a whiskey idea? It sounds like a whiskey idea, _amigo,_ " asked Sombra, resting her cheek on her knuckles. She regarded the drunken cowboy, he was an utter mess. " _A_ _ie yaie yaie..._ "

"Hanzo don't love me, I'm a dang fool..." he sobbed into his knees, "I'm gonna fry."

She recoiled for a moment then crawled into the bath and sat across from McCree. "Here, come on, Jesse. Gimme a hug. I learned how to do this thing called 'emotional support' from my few hours in a poly-amorous relationship," she said, again pronouncing all the syllables in poly-amorous, "its like manipulating people so they feel better about themselves..."

"What?" he asked nervously as Sombra wrapped her arms around his knees and hugged him. His eyes wandered skeptically under his hat as he felt Sombra give him an unconditional non-sexual hug for the first time in his life. He tentatively pat her back.

"It's how I got to have a threesome with Jenny and D.Va," she said after a moment.

"Shit, I knew you was still the devil!" Jesse hissed under his breath.

"Shhhhh," hushed Sombra, "stand up so I can give you a real one. Just let me do it." McCree reluctantly stood and received the hug. "I believe in you Jesse, you'll do great tomorrow," she encouraged, "and I'll be here for you whatever happens."

To McCree's surprise he actually felt better. It was the first friendly platonic touch he'd felt in a long while. He put his arms around her and returned the hug with a relaxed sigh.

"Dang, Sombra. It's almost like you're a normal person..." 

"I know, wolf in sheep's clothing," she replied with a grin. Her eyes were alight, as if she learned she had a new power.

"Can I get the bed? I reckon I'll need the best sleep of my life."

"Pffft, _no mames_ ," she chuckled, "take my card and get a new room."

She pulled her credit card out of her bra and handed it to him.

"Right..." he said taking it from her and brushing it off. He narrowed his eyes and wagged the card at her. "Watch out for that D.Va girl, she held a gun to my head and tried to steal my man, all that gets me mighty testy, n' she's got major beef with you. She's a wildcard."

"I think I can handle her, she's in love with me," Sombra replied with an arrogant smile.

"Puh," scoffed McCree, "Love'll give you a mind to be madder n' a March hare between New Crazies-eve n' Stupid Tuesday. I oughta know."

"That's... what? OK, go to bed, McCree. Your slang isn't making any sense."

"Crazier n' yer crazy aunt's collection a' metaphysical pubic hair out to lunch."

"Ew, get out of here," said Sombra turning him around and marching him to the door, "and take your guitar, _¡tomatelás!_ "

She dumped him out the door and tossed his guitar case behind him.

"Crazier than my erection when I flip cock an 1887 with my own erection."

"Bye!"

She slammed the door. McCree stood and strapped his guitar case over his shoulder whistling Patsy Cline's "Crazy" as he took his wide pained steps to the elevator.


	12. Chapter 12

McCree snorted awake from an anxiety dream sending his hand rocketing to his holster. Instead of reaching his gun handle, however, it collided with the guitar still resting on his chest making a reverberating _Dwung!_ sound on impact.

"Got _dang_ it!" he cursed in pain. He sucked on his fingers for a moment then went for his pocket flask. "Hell of a way to wake up..." he muttered as he took a swig then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Slowly it dawned on him what had happened. He'd gone to sleep practicing without choosing a song. Or maybe he’d chosen a song but was too drunk at the time to remember. He checked the clock. 11:30 am. "Well shyeet... Guess I always was better thinking on my toes..."

Jesse made his way to his old room and knocked on the door. Hana suddenly swung open the door dressed in her greaser outfit. She blew a bubble and popped it in his face disdainfully then gave him the up and down.

"Sombra, your weird cowboy friend is here..." she called keeping her bored callous eyes fixed on him.

"Yeah, hold on," Sombra called back. She arose from Jenny's side on the bed then sleepily walked to the door as she ran her hand through her hair. Jesse tapped his foot impatiently and eyed the door frame indignantly as she moseyed over. "What's up?"

"My thing is in 20 minutes!" Jesse exclaimed, "I still don't got a song!"

"Not surprising, there was about 0.01 probability that you would have a song"

"What? How'd you do that?"

"I constructed a collection of decision trees with controlled variables using a machine learning ensemble meta-algorithm, I used all our past experiences together as my data set and trained the algorithm on random samples of features-"

"Holy Jesus, I just woke up n' I can't take that," said McCree putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "look, all I hear you tellin' me is that I'm an irresponsible drunk, which ain’t news to me. So unless you can use that fancy computer on yer butt to find me a song, cut the techno babble, honey."

Sombra looked off to the side and folded her arms.

"The way I see it, its a coin toss _,_ " replied Sombra coolly. She looked him up and down. "Though seeing as how you're hungover and stressed out, you've got at least a few factors putting you at a disadvantage. But your odds of failure are 100% if you don't have a song, _so choose a random song._ "

A family walked by. The mother quickly covered her 13 year old son's eyes and tugged him by as he exclaimed "Wowww!" and pointed at Sombra.

"Don't fancy her, son, she'll bite yer head off n' math you to death," grumbled McCree, "come on Sombra, I need an ace in the hole, I got no advantage. Can't you use them statistical models to help me instead a' tellin' me I'm gonna blow it? At least gimme some a' that talk you were giving me yesterday, you know, _emotional support._ "

Sombra thought for a moment. "Hey, D.Va, what's Jun's song?" she called over to her.

Hana looked up from her iPhone game. "'Love Me,' by Elvis Presley," she replied nonchalantly before cursing at her game in Korean.

"There you go," said Sombra curtly, "I'll be down in a minute."

She shut the door in his face. McCree humphed at Hana's apparent lack of loyalty. Suddenly, the door swung open. "Oh yeah, and take your ugly snake skin leather jacket," said Sombra throwing it at McCree.

"'Love Me,' huh?" he noted to himself as he picked up the jacket and switched into it, "well ain't that a stark statement..."

* * *

He arrived in the hotel lobby and immediately noticed a gaudy sign had been put up for their competition.

_THIS IS JUN YOON SUPERLATIVE MUSIC KING EXTRAORDINAIRE AT THIS TIME ANNOUNCING A CONTEST OF ROMANTIC AND EROTIC AUDIO MUSICAL PERFORMANCES OF RAM-CHARGED BOOGALOO AND TOPLESS STRIP GEAR GYRATION. ITS ABSOLUTELY DIFFERENT. YOU'LL HATE YOURSELF IF YOU MISS IT. BAWDIER THAN TOBACCO ROAD AND ACHIER THAN GOD'S LITTLE ACRE. MUSIC OF ANTI-SOCIAL SIGNIFICANCE IN SCINTILLATING STEREO._

_YOU'LL WINCE! YOU'LL SHUDDER! IT WILL LIVE IN YOUR MEMORY FOREVER!_

_HIGH NOON AT THE ARISTOCRAT HOTEL LOUNGE_

_(No shirt and shoes required)_

A queer elderly couple stood in front of the sign murmuring with interest.

"Oh lord, he's really done it..." muttered McCree, "lil' bastard didn't even mention me."

He hustled himself past gaggles of people heading to the room where the performance was taking place. To his horror it was a packed theater with separate seating and standing areas and an open bar. Greasers comprised the majority of the standing audience in front of the stage but there were a significant number of regular people seated to take in the show. McCree, however, couldn't find Hanzo anywhere in the audience. He looked over the crowd for a sign of his gi or long hair.

His search was interrupted when a small group of greasers flanked him on either side. Johnny swaggered up to him from the middle loudly chewing his gum. "This way," he said with a conniving grin, "the boss is expecting you..."

"That junk'll rot yer teeth..." replied McCree sticking his chin up at Johnny.

They brought him backstage to the dressing room where Jun was being prepped by a small army of attendants and greasers. They parted like the Red Sea as Jesse approached.

Jun turned in his chair to meet him. He looked relaxed, although oddly sweaty in his diamond studded jumpsuit. "So this is it, you get yer chance to croon out a love song before you ride off into the sunset n' out of my way for good, cowballs," said Jun with his trademark disdainful lip curl.

McCree spit and rested his hands on his belt. "We'll see about that"

"Lets get this done, I'm hankerin' for some alone time with my hubby!" he said suddenly rising out of his chair. He pelvic thrusted to the left then pelvic thrusted to the right before spinning in place and jumping into a wide stance. McCree looked down his nose at him with a suspicious squint. This was a far cry from his injured state yesterday. "Gimme out there! Yer comin' on with me, raw-hide!"

The house lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. Jun strut onto the stage rolling his shoulders, Jesse tentatively followed looking nervous and boyish. The announcer, a Korean man sporting dyed blond hair and a powder blue blazer, took to the mic with a milquetoasty American accent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, omics and humans of all ages... I give you—"

"Gimme that dang microphone n' shut up!" said Jun hip-checking the announcer aside and grabbing the mic. The crowd winced from the feedback as he lowered the stand to his height. "This here is a contest between me n' Jesse fer the best love song n' here are the rules," announced Jun in his pitch perfect Elvis impersonation, "1. no cheatin', 2. my hubby votes on the best song but feel free to voice yer opinion, so after each song you let my baby know by makin' a fuss _,_ 3\. I'm the King. Its winner takes all n' the prize is my hubby's hand in marriage. Anything to add Jesse?"

Jun held out the mic to McCree. Jesse peered left then right then hesitantly leaned in. "Uh, nope. Pleasure to be here, though. Sure hope I win, heh heh."

Jun whipped the mic away before anyone might have the chance to find McCree's awkwardness charming. "We're doin' a coin toss to see who goes first," he said with a disdainful scowl.

The announcer stepped between the two men with a quarter. With surprising dexterity he flipped the coin, caught it, and slapped it against the back of his hand. "Heads or tails, Jun?"

"Heads, baby."

The announced peaked under his hand. "Its heads," he said before huddling out backwards, hunched over his hands.

"Hardly had the chance to see it..." muttered McCree.

Jun smirked at Jesse then took the mic stand and expertly flung it back and forth before dipping it low and holding it in a deep forward leaning stance. "I win! I'm The King, baby!" he shouted into the mic to enthusiastic applause, "now, lets get this show on the road!"

McCree gulped, Jun's moves were impeccable, paradoxical, it was like he was swing dancing with the mic stand, handling it as if he were sweet talking a lover even as he carelessly manhandled it. It didn't even make sense to Jesse how much charisma Jun's performance had just in those few moves. Jun reset the stand and quickly shook out his head, he seemed ecstatic with energy. "We start at high noon, Jesse McCree," he said, holding the mike close to the corner of his mouth, end tilted up, as he pointed at the cowboy, "so what time is it?"

Jesse balked for a moment then uncovered his glove from his wrist. His stupid watch was always slow. The seconds hand wobbled brokenly behind the glass. He tapped the device nervously. It read 11:54.

"Just say it, say yer line, Jesse-boy," said Jun with a bullyish smirk.

McCree cleared his throat and stepped to the mic, lowering himself to its level. "I reckon its about high noon..." he said flatly as he scanned the audience's faces.

Jun's greasers had a chuckle.

The lights shut off and McCree was briskly shuffled offstage by greaser stage hands. A single stage light unshuttered over Jun with a _shunk!_  and the band started up a hard hitting and sexed up version of "Love Me."

" _Treat me like a fool,_ _Treat me mean and cruel,_ _But love me..."_ sang Jun in his Elvis timbre as he bobbed and swayed with his pelvis. The lights expanded to cover the front of the stage where a small army of greaser girls cooed over Jun in various states of adoration and rapture. " _Wring my faithful heart,_ _Tear it all apart,_ _But love me..."_

Jesse heard high-pitched screams emanating from the audience and was compelled to peek through the curtain. He caught sight of Sombra, Hana, and Jenny up front swooning over Jun. He swaggered over to Jenny and sang to her. Like clockwork she turned beat red and covered her mouth in excited disbelief. When he moved to the next girl, Jenny reached out to him and mouthed "don't go." He turned his attention to Sombra. As he sang to her she looked away bashfully with a heavy blush, sticking out her chest and fanning herself with her hand as if to cool off her heat. Hana, meanwhile, was jumping up and down, gritting her teeth as she desperately reached for Jun to get his attention.

Jesse stared at them in horrified disbelief.

"What in 'tarnation?" he cursed, "dang bisexuals! Ain't nobody got any loyalty?"

" _If you ever go, Darling, I'll be oh so lonely I'll be sad and blue, Crying over you, dear only... I would beg and steal, Just to feel your heart, Beatin' close to mine..."_

A chorus of girly screams emanated from the audience once again as the diminutive hearthrob worked his charms on them. Even the twinky hotel clerk from the first day was screaming for him. McCree began to panic.

"Oh lord, he's killin' it n' I don't even have a song, what in the name a' Christmas do I do?!" He looked out the curtain to witness Jun's booty muscles flexing in his jumpsuit as he gyrated. He went back in and tried to banish the image from his mind. "Its that dang pelvis of his... Come on, think McCree! You can take down a squad of elite Talon mercs but you can't think of a dang song?" His eye twitched and he instinctively went for his pocket flask but he stopped himself when he was struck by a moment of clarity. "Alright," he said continuing to reach for his flask, "if they're fallin' for bad boy Elvis, maybe I can do me some good boy Elvis," he said then took a decisive swig, "I'm a good boy, right?"

Jun finished his song to the sound of screams and thunderous applause.

"Yer up, Alamo," said Johnny playing with his switch blade, "but ain't nobody gonna remember you."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered McCree.

He spit and swaggered onto the stage with his guitar.

"Well, I ain't much of a performer and that's a hell of an act..." he said into the microphone. He winced from the feedback.

"Louder and closer to the mic!" shouted Sombra, cupping her hands over her mouth.

He quickly stepped closer and clumsily raised the mic to his level. "Ain't much fer words neither, but this one's called 'Love Me Tender' by the _real_ Elvis," he said earnestly, "It ain't big, but its how I feel. Hanzo, this is fer you."

Jesse cleared his throat and started strumming the chords. " _Love me tender, Love me sweet, Never let me go, You have made my life complete, And I love you so... Love me tender, Love me true, All my dreams fulfilled, For my darling I love you, And I always will..._ " he sang in his rugged yet dulcet voice.

The greasers at the front of the stage exchanged glances then gazed at McCree wide-eyed as he performed.

Jun sat backstage shoveling ice into the crotch of his jumpsuit when he was given pause by Jesse McCree's voice. He perked up his ears.

"Hey, he ain't bad..." said Johnny, briefly pausing his fiddling, "you know, in a kinda sad old Johnny Cash sorta way."

"Shut up," spat Jun, "ain't nobody asked yer opinion."

" _Love me tender, Love me long, Take me to your heart, For it's there that I belong, And we'll never part..._ "

Hanzo was frozen at his table. Slowly, he felt the wide eyes of the greasers turn from McCree to him as the anxiety hit them that Jesse's performance was actually good.

" _Love me tender, Love me true, All my dreams fulfilled, For my darling I love you, And I always will... Love me tender, Love me dear, Tell me you are mine, I'll be yours through all the years, Till the end of time..._ "

 _That song_ , Hanzo thought, it was everything he'd wanted Jesse to say but never did. There was none of his usual bluster or ambiguity about commitment. No embarrassment about his vulnerability towards him, about how he needed him. He felt a tear well up in his eye as he sat paralyzed.

" _Love me tender, Love me true, All my dreams fulfilled, For my darling I love you, And I always will..._ "

Jesse finished to silence. His eyes panned the crowd's flabbergasted facial expressions. To his dismay he saw Hanzo looking at him as if he'd seen a ghost. McCree gave a resigned nod and sucked his teeth. "Welp, that's my song. Been a pleasure playin' for you folks," he said solemnly before tipping his hat and walking off stage with his pained steps.

To his surprise he saw Jun backstage looking at him with a combination of jealousy and terror but mostly anger. McCree squinted at him curiously then turned his eyes to Johnny who was glancing between Jun and Jesse with palpable anxiety. To Jesse's surprise, the crowd erupted in applause sending Jun into a blind rage.

"Where's Han?!" he shouted as he stormed by McCree.

"Boss, wait! You gotta go back on stage!" called Johnny after him.

"This here competition is _over!_ " Jun shouted in outrage.

The announcer timidly returned to the stage as commotion from Jun's tantrum was heard from behind. "Ah, well, I'm afraid that's all folks. Drinks are on the house, courtesy of Mr. Yoon," he said holding his hands together.

A recording of "Hound Dog" rolled as the house lights returned to normal. Jun stormed into the audience in a rage. Hana and a group of greasers ran to his side to attend to him. "Where's Han at?" he roared grabbing Hana's shirt collar.

"We don't know! He disappeared when the lights went on!" she explained, wincing as she turned her head away.

Jun growled disapprovingly and pushed her aside. "Find him!"

Sombra ran up to McCree excitedly as he came from back stage. "You killed it, _vacquero_! See, I knew you had it in you!"

"Yeah, but my chances are still 50/50 until Han gives his call. Speakin' a which, you seen him around?"

Sombra blinked at him as if he were stupid then put her hand on her hip. "Nope, why?"

He eyed her skeptically, unsure of what she was trying to pull. "I, uh, wanna know who won?" he replied cocking an eyebrow.

"Better let Jun talk to him first," she said plopping her hand on his chest. She looked up at him with a grin. "Trust me..."


	13. Chapter 13

"Do you gotta have that toy gun a yers pointed at me the whole time?" grumbled McCree as he sat on the bed in Sombra's hotel room.

Hana sat cross legged on a chair at the foot of the bed, lazily holding her laser pistol at him as she chewed her gum.

"It's a _real_ gun, you ancient fart," she replied indignantly, "watch."

She aimed and fired her pink gun at the window and leaving a quarter sized flaming hole in the glass. McCree blinked at the hole. So the gun was dangerous, he noted. She turned the gun back to McCree.

"Yer just gonna let her point that thing at me?" he grumbled at Sombra.

Sombra looked up from the holographic screen projected in her hand and shrugged at him. "Meh, she's working."

"I'm _working_ ," Hana repeated aggressively.

Jesse sighed impatiently and sat in awkward silence. "I'm 37," he announced out of the blue.

"What?" snipped Hana.

"I'm 37, I ain't old."

"Puh," spat Hana, "whatever..."

At that moment they heard the door unlock, someone had used the master key. Johnny stepped in flanked by two other greasers. "Boss says you can come upstairs."

"Right, the conversation was gettin' dull here anyways..." said McCree with a hat tip.

He arose and made his way to the door. The greasers closed around him to escort him to Hanzo's room. Upstairs he met Jun leaning outside of Hanzo's door with a smirk on his face.

"The news ain't great fer you, Jesse. But I figure I'll let Han tell you himself."

He extended his hand and gestured to the door. Jesse swallowed and lowered his head as he entered. Inside, Hanzo was seated on his knees with his back to McCree.

"Come in, Jesse," he said solemnly.

"Why do I feel like yer gonna tell me somethin' complicated?"

Hanzo sighed. "Indeed," he said turning and arising from his sieza.

He approached Jesse slowly. Jesse stared at him in almost a kind of awe as he felt something impending approach. He froze. Hanzo was close, just in front of him, Jesse could see his dark eyes regarding him with a familiar softness that had become what felt like a distant memory.

Suddenly, Hanzo wrapped his arms around McCree and buried his face in his neck. Hanzo felt unbelievably soft. His touch was electric, it was the touch of a lover. He hadn't felt it in what felt like an eternity.

"I missed you."

Jesse shuddered and sniffed as he felt himself fall to pieces. His arms snapped around Hanzo and he pulled him close and held him tight.

"Aw, hell Han," said McCree feeling the hot tears well up in his eyes, "I missed you too, I been in hell!"

"I know, Jesse. I'm sorry for everything I've done, for hurting you."

"You proud sumabitch! I been tearin' myself up for my mistakes n' you been out here cold and distant as hell!" Jesse blubbered, "I just wanted so bad to feel your touch again you and tell you I'm sorry..."

Hanzo squeezed McCree tighter as he felt him tremble.

"I know, I've been unfair but I didn't think it was right with Jun."

"Hell, I know that!" Jesse snapped emotionally, "I just can't stand you bein' so closed off when we was close in the past... I got nuthin' and nobody to talk to! I been downright inconsolable!"

Hanzo withdrew his hug and eyed him with a concerned frown before looking aside.

"I am not fond of looking at my mistakes and misjudgments, I could not foresee how badly I would hurt you..."

McCree briefly took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Almost immediately he felt in withdrawal from Hanzo's touch.

"I'm just neurotic as hell and hung up on you. Ain't nuthin' helps. I think about you everyday," McCree admitted resentfully, "it's just how I am, I didn't know how in love with you I really was or else I'dve moved Got dang mountains to keep you with me."

"Your song, Jesse, I didn't know how you truly felt—"

"That ain't the half of it!" Jesse snapped, "I'm mad, Han. I'm mad as hell I let you go, that I didn't tell you all the time how I felt! That I acted like a cut up and said all the wrong things!"

"I know now," replied Hanzo softly.

"Jeezus," said McCree swiping his hat off in resignation. He spoke looking at the floor. "I'm a full on wreck, I still don't got my act together but I been worse since you left..."

"I'm so sorry Jesse, you have the right to be angry."

"Well, it don't confront you none, it's my mind. I don't know why I ain't got the gumption to move on. It's just a fact that whatever you do is gonna effect me as long as I know you. Can't think of nuthin' to do 'cept puttin' myself outta my misery if I ain't with you"

"That is not fair of you, Jesse," said Hanzo with a sigh.

"I know, don't think nuthin' of it. I'm just in a rut is all."

McCree gave a flat smile and put his hands on his hips. He looked at the floor melancholically for a moment before inhaling and bringing his eyes to Hanzo. The trickle of the fountain outside and the smell of incense brought him back to his visits to Hanzo in Japan.

"I can't tell you how much I just want to kiss you, Han."

"I'm sorry, Jesse..."

McCree felt his heart sink at Hanzo's response. He supposed he should feel lucky Hanzo had let him hold him close.

"So what's the verdict? Lil' Elvis told me it wasn't pretty."

"I told him he won..."

"Figures," said McCree donning his hat.

"But that's the same thing I'm going to tell you."

McCree felt his heart leap. "What?"

"You won, Jesse. I've never felt more loved and wanted. Its everything I’d ever hoped you’d say. But you must understand, you put me in an awkward position..."

"Well," noted McCree with an adamant nod, "couldn't a guessed this... What's it mean, Han?"

Hanzo again sat in his sieza kneel and closed his eyes. After a moment, he suddenly shot them open and his voice regained its proud decisive tone.

"You must understand that Jun not only loves me but intends to restore the Shimada clan's holdings. Our arrangement has many political and financial benefits, I would be a fool to turn my back on that."

"I reckon that's a good reason to go with a guy like him—"

"There are, however, other ways to establish our alliance besides such a union..." he said arising and walking to the door.

McCree swiveled his head and called to Hanzo as he left. "Han, where you going?"

"I am going to get Jun, I must talk to you both..."

* * *

The three men sat kneeling in silence in Hanzo's room. Jun and Mcree sat next to each other casting one another the stink eye as Hanzo sat ahead of him in a state of deep meditation.

"Uh, darlin', you wanted to talk to me n' Jesse?"

Hanzo's eyes snapped open. "Yes, but this is complex! I must prepare my words..."

"Well, whenever yer ready, baby-”

"Jun!" Hanzo interrupted, "your performance was blustering and showy. If that song was meant for me, it's as if you hardly knew me!"

"Aw, darlin', you said you liked it!"

"While I was flattered and though I am always impressed with your skill, it pales in comparison to the humble fidelity expressed in McCree's song," he asserted, "McCree!"

McCree straightened his back and snapped to at Hanzo’s shout.

"While your song profoundly touched me, your alcoholism and depressive habits make you unfit to be a partner!"

"Dang, Han! Ain't no need to lay it on me like that!"

"However, I must confess, Jun..."

"Yeah, honey pie?" Jun replied nervously.

"I still have feelings for McCree."

"Rats," Jun cursed.

"I haven’t been honest with you, my love. I’ve felt rushed into this wedding and I have not asserted my desire to take things at a more even pace. I’ve felt like an object and I realize now I do not know you as well as I thought. If we are ever to be partners, you must learn to honor and listen to my desires. So, my deal is this, we will postpone the marriage but merge our holdings and govern the syndicate together," said Hanzo maintaining his samurai composure, "when the Shimada holdings are restored and if we have learned to govern as equals, then I may approach you for marriage."

"That's a lot a conditionals and maybes, darlin'" muttered Jun.

"Now yer gettin' the treatment I get from him," chuckled McCree.

"Silence!" asserted Hanzo, "McCree, it was wrong of me to suddenly leave you. I see now there is much I could have said and done to make my intentions clear. I am ashamed to have left you suffering when I desire nothing more to see you happy."

"So yer gettin' back together with me? You'll give me another chance?"

"I'm afraid I cannot, but I can be convinced to start seeing you again as a friend."

"As a friend?" repeated McCree skeptically.

"We shall see."

"Aw, dang it, hubby!" Jun burst out, "all I hear is yer breakin' up with me! 'n yer bein' all ambiguous-like so you can maybe start datin' yer ex behind my back!"

"I'm afraid these are my terms, you have both failed to take me into account for the duration of your contest. Now I am telling you how I feel. If you do not agree, you are free to decline."

The three men sat in silence. McCree felt bittersweet but it was as though a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"Well, that's that, I reckon," said Jun solemnly, "I'll do it for you, baby. I'll wait n' show you I'm a carin' kinda man."

"So the wedding's off?" asked McCree.

"Yes," asserted Hanzo, "for now."

He stood and turned his back to them. Jun and Jesse eyed each other then stood as well.

"Now, as much as it pains me, I require to be alone," he said making a fist, "I do not wish to hurt either of you by spending time time with one but not the other so I will return to Tokyo. You will each hear from me in due time..." He looked aside with a solemn expression. "Now go"

"Uhh," said Jun eyeing McCree and Hanzo, "right now, baby cakes?"

"I reckon so," said McCree arising from the floor.

"Baby, naw, I can't just let you go, darlin'!" blubbered Jun scrambling up in protest.

McCree put his hand on Jun's shoulder.

"It's just his way. He's said his piece, partner."

"Aw, heck," Jun cursed as he kicked the air in frustration.

The pair solemnly made their way to the door. Jun gave an unhappy sniff.

"Don't reckon you'd let me buy you a drink?" muttered McCree on their way out.

Jun twisted his head in frustration. "Yeah, all right," he cursed, "fuck..."

* * *

"Han's capricious like a cat," said McCree as he swilled his whiskey shot in his hand. "He's lucky he's perdy otherwise no one'd put up with his shit."

"Well, if that ain't the Got dang honest truth," muttered Jun sipping his peach brandy. He looked into his glass. "Look, I'm sorry I called yer dick tiny. Just got competitive is all."

"Yeah, that one got me real ugly," replied McCree bitterly, "don't insult another man's manhood, partner, that shit'll get 'em anxious n' vengeful." He called for another shot. "But I'm sorry I was snoopin' in yer medical records. It's my lady-friend, she's like the devil with computers."

"Yuh," grunted Jun bitterly, "you think you're anxious about yer dang masculinity..."

McCree slammed down his shot and exhaled to neutralize the nasty whiskey taste in his throat.

"Hey, how'd you do all them moves after I shot you in yer fun parts?"

"Handful of prescription painkillers, don't ask," muttered Jun.

"Just like the man himself," McCree chuckled, "watch out, partner, The King's not a role model."

"Yeah, yeah, I got 'em from the doc after you dinged up my downstairs, fuckin’ butter fingers," he replied, giving McCree the stink eye.

"Sorry 'bout that one too, Bubba Hotep."

"You ain't sorry," Jun chuckled.

McCree humphed in amusement. "Nope, we settled that one already. But it's the right thing to say..."

At that moment, Sombra waltzed into the bar with Hana and Jenny in tow.

"I hit it big!" Sombra shouted throwing a handful of money in the air, "Drinks are on the house, babies!"

She sashayed up to Jun and McCree and put her arms over their shoulders.

"How are you babies doing?" she asked with a slight slur on her voice.

"Yer drunk," noted McCree.

" _You're drunk_ ," she retorted.

"Heya, cowboy, Ima head out," said Jun melancholically as he donned his sunglasses, "turns out yer not so bad after all. Guess I'll see you around..."

McCree tipped his hat. "Evenin' to ya, glad we could make some peace."

Sombra took his place and tracked him out of the corner of her eyes as he made his way out.

"I'm assuming it went well?"

"Somethin' like that, ain't what none of us wanted er expected. Guess Han's going with both and neither of us."

"That little pervert," Sombra snickered, "well, _vacquero_ , you can feel sorry if you want, I'm going to party." She paused to eye up a passing cocktail waitress. "You're free to join. I want girls and guys tonight..."

"Aw hell no, you can go n' keep that business to yourself."

"Come on, McCree," she said tilting her head, "you won't fuck me but you can make it up to me if you let me watch you fuck a boy."

"Good Gawd, darlin', yer firin' on all cylinders."

"Have you tried a polyamorous relationship, Jesse? It's working out great for me," she asked, ignoring him.

McCree humphed. "That tripe just screams Mormon to me. Keep me outta that noise."

She smacked him upside the head. " _Callate!_ That's polygamy, ass for brains!"

McCree fixed his hat and squinted at her skeptically. "Don't reckon I see a difference, if ya ask me..."

"It could loosen things up for you, _amigo_ ," she said patting him on the back with a sly smile, "besides, what makes you think you aren't already in one with Jun and Hanzo? Especially if he's being sketchy about his choice."

"Hell, this's different!" scoffed McCree sounding somewhat offended, "n' what do you know anyways?"

Sombra raised her eyebrows at McCree. "I'm very _very_ good at predicting..." She eyed her wrist nonchalantly. "And I suppose that makes me pretty good at gambling too."

"What did you win at, by the way?"

Sombra gave McCree a conniving smile.

"Not telling..." she said in singsong as she slinked away.

McCree blinked a few times as the gears spun in his head. Hardly satisfied, he motioned for another shot. The bartender placed it in McCree's hand and he downed it with a deft motion then set out to find Jenny. He fished her out of the crowd and took her aside.

“Oh hey, McCree...” she said with a half-amused smile.

"What she win at?" Jesse asked.

"She started a pool for the competition between you and Jun."

“Eh?” replied McCree incredulously. He thought about it for a moment. “ _Right_ , of course she did...” he scowled, "typical."

“Come on, partner. You won!” she said giving him a side hug, “loosen up!”

She’d adopted her fake Texas accent again, he supposed to poke fun at him.

“Yeah, I suppose I did... its all still sinkin’ in,” said Jesse cracking a small smile, “by the way, yer Texas accent is all kindsa whomperjawed. Hang around and I can get you speakin’ proper Texan.”

They watched Sombra take a passing waitress by the waist and kiss her on the mouth. Hana put her hands on her hips and scowled at her disapprovingly.

“She is really out of control...” Jesse mumbled.

“Bring on the cocktail nubiles!” Sombra shouted, pulling a drink off the accosted waitress's serving tray and raising it high. The waitress scampered away to avoid Sombra as Hana whacked the libidinous hacker’s shoulder in frustration.

“You sure you can handle her, Jenny? She’s wilder than a pitched bucket full a' weasels.”

“You know, I don’t really care if I can’t,” Jenny replied wistfully.

“Well, OK then...” said McCree with an appreciative nod.

* * *

Sombra, in accordance with a ritual she often did at the height of her meglomania, assembled a decadent and anarchic entourage and tore up the strip, crashing strip clubs, bars and night clubs until the wee hours. McCree joined them but cut out early and retired to his room to gather himself. Back at the hotel he arranged plans with Tracer to return to his hovel in West Texas and thought of Hanzo as he strummed his guitar. For the first time in many months he was able to think of him without the usual cloud of pain and regret. He felt a little more reconciled.

That night Jesse slept somewhat fitfully, ruminating and wondering when he’d hear from Hanzo again and about the uncertainties that lay ahead in their relationship. However, it was almost as if he had a sense of giddiness, he wanted to get on and see what the future held. His brain was rearranging around a new set of circumstances and he felt a new energy.

Upon awakening he ventured to Sombra’s room. He knocked on the door but to his annoyance there was no response. He went downstairs to the concierge and was informed that “Ms. Vasquez” had changed rooms. The clerk sent a message to her new room.

“She says you can come up, here’s the number.”

McCree gave a rapid knock on the door to Sombra's new room on the very top floor. She opened the door hunched over in her underwear, covering her breasts with her crossed arms. Her hair looked frazzled and her eyes were glassy from her hangover.

“Yeah, what is it, McCree?”

“What in the name a Jesus did you get into last night?” said Jesse peering over her shoulder into the massive gaudy suite.

Greasers in a variety of states of undress sprinkled the room in an equally wide variety of sleeping positions. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. He spied a number of used condoms dangling off a waste bin.

“Heh,” she replied with a smile, “you missed out.”

“You know, you do this every time, darlin’, as long as I known you. One of these days yer gonna get too old for this.”

“Yeah, but not yet,” she said with a tired smirk, “coming in?”

“Like hell I’m goin’ into that wasteland. Its desolation. Yer comin’ out.”

“I have to get dressed,” she said impatiently, “come on!”

She grabbed McCree, exposing her bare breasts as she pulled him in. Jesse sighed impatiently and followed Sombra, tiptoeing around the sleeping greasers to get to the bed. He peered out from under his cowboy hat and saw that Hana and Johnny had gotten to each other, she was sleeping on his shoulder as another greaser boy snuggled into Hana’s back. Suddenly, Jesse scuffed his boot against a strange object. It was a strap on.

He humphed.

“Get any use outta this?” he said under his breath, trying not to disturb the sleeping greaser den.

He poked it with his boot to draw Sombra’s attention to it.

“Oh yes...” she replied adamantly.

“She looks like she had fun,” muttered McCree, nodding towards Hana.

“Its funny, she really does fuck like a rabbit,” Sombra mused, “when I first met her I knew I wanted to see her get fucked by two guys at the same time.”

“Sorry I asked,” grumbled McCree with an eye roll.

"Aw, its not so bad," said Sombra smiling from behind her heavy makeup, "she's coming out of a rough relationship, a girl can gain a lot of confidence doing degrading things. I mean, as long as she doesn't try dating them." Sombra zipped up her cat suit and held her arms to her side, striking a coy pose. “I’m done, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, outside!” hissed McCree, “come on, git! I ain’t a pushover like yer DJ pal.”

Jenny stirred from McCree's voice but, in her sleepiness, remembered where she was. She turned with a satisfied grin towards one of her partners and wrapped her hands around her exquisite butt. Jenny had scored big. She lay between what appeared to be three precision dance performers, all naked—though one still wore her peacock headdress. Their elaborate feathered outfits sat in a pile next to the bed.

“OK OK, fine...” Sombra huffed.

They quietly exited and made their way to the Aristocrat Hotel’s restaurant to talk over breakfast cocktails.

“So how does it feel to have all this behind you?” Sombra asked.

"Don't reckon I know, I feel new. It ain't happy but it's different...better than it was. Guess I needed to get something off my chest to Han."

"And you and Jun?"

"Reckon we're square."

"Oh yeah? I checked hotel surveillance last night. He gave Hanzo another visit."

"What in the hell?" McCree exclaimed, "he said direct he wouldn't do that!"

"Wonder what they did or talked about?" mused Sombra with a cruel smile, "I know what I'd do if I wasn't seeing my lover for a while..."

"Holy hell, you sure know how to poke a raw nerve," said McCree readjusting his hat in frustration, "fuck..."

All at once he felt his jealousy and self-loathing cover him like a cloud.

"Well, how about this Muh-Cree," said Sombra noting Jesse's unhappy expression, "I can find out when his flight is so you can see him off—"

"No, I'm done with that! Every time I take yer angle something bad happens—," Jesse interrupted, slamming his drink down on the table.

"Look, I'll find out right now," she said ignoring him and opening her haptic keyboard, "oh look, it's in 20 minutes. I can drive you," she said with fake surprise, "we'll just barely make it."

Sombra sat back in her chair pretending to mind the information projected in her hand as she watched McCree think out of the corner of her eye. He crossed his arms and looked off to the side as if to spurn her. Her augmented mind analyzed his face, picking up micro-indicators to predict his response. 

"Come on, Jesse. There's nothing you want to say to him?" she asked.

Jesse sighed. Sombra smiled as it became apparent he was going to accept.

"Yeah, OK," he said resentfully as he uncrossed his arms and threw down his hat. He knew he'd been manipulated. "Dag nabbit, Sombra. Yer the worst!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in the span of like 2 hours on my iPhone so it might be a bit sloppy.

They strut into the parking garage, the smell of ozone from the electric and hydrogen powered cars engulfed their nostrils.

"I know you get off on twisting me around your finger," muttered McCree as they walked, "I ain't a fool."

"Hmm?" replied Sombra, pretending she didn't hear him, "oh, come on McCree, you like it."

McCree scowled.

Sombra scanned the room until her eyes settled on a stealthy looking black car.

_Bugatti Scorpion_

She raised her clicker to the car with a grin and pressed the 'unlock' button. The car chirped as it's gull wing doors popped open with a smooth hydraulic sound.

"Wha—? That's not—"

"Hush," she interrupted, "now get in."

"How did you—?" asked Jesse totally flabbergasted.

Sombra's insidious eyes widened at him in excitement as she cracked a smug smile.

"Watch," she said raising the clicker up.

With a press of the button, all the cars in the garage signaled in a cacophony of various chirps and chimes that their security systems were disabled and that they were now unlocked.

A passing elderly couple looked around in disarray.

"You're a computer witch or somethin'..." said McCree regarding her with one eye suspiciously.

Sombra cocked her head and gestured to the car to get in but Jesse didn't budge. He didn't approve of stealing.

"Look, we'll need something fast, my spyder is a toy car," she explained, "come on, just don't think about it!"

"Alight then..." McCree nodded his head in some combination of awe and resignation and plopped himself into the deep passenger seat of the exotic car.

Sombra followed in and took the driver's seat with a self-impressed sigh. She gripped the red leather on the futuristic steering wheel. With a seductive motion she started the car with a press of a button, bypassing the biometric scanner instantaneously. The hover coils burst to life with an electric roar. The whirring of the precision electric motors powering the car's advanced airfoils and fans gave McCree a harrowing sense of its immense power. He gulped from the realization of what had just come under Sombra's control. Suddenly, she snapped her head to McCree, looking at him with villainous eyes.

"Buckle up, _amigo_ ," she said darkly. McCree detected the hint of self-destructive amusement in her voice and his brain sent up warning flairs.

"Aw hell, don't have to tell me twice," he said fumbling for the safety belt.

Before he could finish, Sombra gunned the accelerator and reversed and he was flung forward from the momentum. Sombra laughed at him cruelly.

"Hey! You keep it together!" he snipped at her, holding his hat to his head, "Christ, its like you're demon possessed all of the sudden! What's with you?"

"I don't know what it is, I feel... powerful..."

"I knew this city was gonna blow up yer ego."

"Look at me, McCree," she said gripping his unshaven face with her claws and squeezing his cheeks, "You're still depressed, you're thinking about this like it's a chore or something."

"Looks a might bit like mania to me," he said through his smushed lips.

"Yeah, so what?" she snapped, " _I_ feel like I could stop a truck with my face, but this is _your_ moment. You've got 20 minutes to make a 1 hour drive to see the love of your life before he disappears into an abyss of relationship ambiguity forever. Do you get what's at stake here?"

Sombra suddenly turned her neck, out of the corner of her eye she'd spotted a gang of armed greasers hustling into the garage. The lead greaser pointed at their car. She turned back to McCree and they communed wordlessly as she grinned. He'd noticed them too. Jun had gone back on his word.

McCree felt a spike of adrenaline shoot down his spine and into his legs and butt. He suddenly felt he could run the entire distance to see Hanzo himself. McCree shifted. There was another thing too, he felt oddly horny. In a flash he thought of all the times he’d fucked and been fucked by Hanzo, how amazing and confident he felt watching him bliss out on his dick, how happy—almost silly—they were together, laying post-coital, speaking in their private language, referencing things only they would ever know, how precious those moments were and how he might have it again, how the opportunity was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

He watched Sombra's conniving smirk widen as his thoughts raced. He wasn't sure how but she'd gotten all the way into his head. Jesse'd caught her mania.

"Fuckin'. Drive." he commanded.

"Just thought I'd let you know," she said, clumsily shifting the car into drive, "I never got my license."

"Aw, hell in a hand basket—"

She gunned the accelerator and the car exploded through the garage. Greasers at every turn scrambled into their hot rods and unloaded their weapons at the unstoppable car. Sombra roared by as their bullets sparked off its aerodynamic exterior.

Hana stood outside the hotel talking to Johnny as the sound of Sombra's car grew closer in the distance. They were standing at an unusual distance from each other.

"Yeah, I don't know if I wanna be ya' boyfriend or nuthin'..." he fumbled as he chewed his gum, "I mean, your hot, don't get me wrong. But sorry, girly, you're too young."

"I'm too young to date you?!" Hana fumed in outrage, "but I guess I'm old enough for you to _fuck_ , you piece of garbage! What did I even mean to you?!"

"Ever hear of a hook up, sweet cheeks?"

Hana felt herself start to lose it. She was completely unaccustomed to not getting her way, she never lost at anything. Johnny wasn't even that hot and he dared reject her?

At that moment, Sombra blew by them at astronomical speed splashing water on her. Briefly Hana caught sight of Sombra and McCree inside the car and her brain fused. It was Sombra that got her into this, that got her to hook up so that she could just now be rejected. It was Sombra who got her with Lucio and then stole him away from her. Every time she encountered Sombra they would somehow wind up having group sex and inevitably she would have her heart broken. Sombra was the cause of all her jealousy and frustration, everything wrong in her life.

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna..." she started to say as she began to hyperventilate. " _I'm gonna kill her!_ " she screamed at the sky.

She pressed the button on her watch to summon her mecha. It rocketed across the sky in a pink streak and struck down on a nearby parked car, flattening it and setting off its car alarm. Johnny stood back in fear as she climbed in. She pointed at him with her mech's fusion blaster.

"We're not finished," she threatened then rocketed after Sombra.

* * *

A police helicopter witnessed a sleek black car weaving through traffic at breakneck speed.

"What in the fuck is that?" muttered the pilot.

He aimed the aircraft's instruments at it. It was going 240 miles per hour down the strip followed by a pink robot spouting a plume of rocket smoke and a train of hotrods.

"How in the—?" the pilot stuttered in disbelief. "Calling all units..."

Sombra cackled maniacally as she sunk back in her seat and pushed her arms against the wheel. The car vibrated from the force of the wind against its exterior. Electricity sparked from the hover coils leaving a trail of blue plasma behind them. McCree, not usually a religious man, muttered a little prayer as his eyes watched the digital speedometer inch towards 260 mph. Cars whizzed by them in a blur as if they were standing still as the whine of the engine reached an ever higher pitch. He closed his eyes when it reached 270.

"Are you thinking of what to say to Hanzo?!" Sombra shouted over the engine. McCree continued his prayer. "Actually, I don't care! Can you feel it?!" Jesse continued muttering inconsolably. "Hey, I'm talking to you! Whatever. I don't care about that either. Driving this car makes me so fucking hot, it almost feels like I'm cumming. In fact, I think I've been cumming the whole time."

McCree's eyes shot open and inspected Sombra's face. Her eyes had gone blurry in that now familiar way. To his horror, she took her eyes off the road and looked right at him. Her face was indeed flush, as if she were in the middle of having unbelievably good sex.

"McCree..." she said softly.

"You're gonna try this now?" he shouted in horrified disbelief, "are ya'll batshit?!"

Yes she was. She frantically undid her catsuit as she kept one hand on the wheel then snatched his left hand and forced it down her tights. McCree's face twisted into discomfort from the squicky warm wet sensation on his hand.

"What in the hell am I doing down here?!"

"Come on, I'm so easy. Just rub my clit and I'll go in two seconds."

"You may as well be asking me to assemble a dang airplane engine or solve a six dimensional rubix cube!"

" _Chale!_ It's easy, mine's big and pierced, you can't miss it," she explained, wincing as she held the wheel still, "It's like a girl's dick, _cabron._ It gets erect and everything."

The cars ahead got the message and cleared a path for her.

"What?! Girls don't have dicks!"

"Are you fucking serious, McCree? I don't even—" she said looking at him in disdain. "You got a lot to learn. OK, two fingers, like this," she said holding up her middle two fingers, "just stick them in me and like move them like you're... trying to get a coin out of a vending machine." She paused and thought about what she'd just said with an incredulous look. "I can't even believe I said that."

McCree looked at her in utter disbelief but to his dismay she simply looked back at him instead of at the road.

"Alright, but fuckin' drive!" he cursed, "can't believe I'm doing this..."

He winced as he tentatively slipped his fingers in and made "the motion," keeping a crab eye on the highway for trouble.

"Yeah... yeah... oh God, yeah..." she cooed. Sombra twitched from pleasure and rested her elbow on the door to prop up her head as she sank into the seat. Quickly, she blew some hair out of her eyes so she could continue to see the road as Jesse pleasured her out of some sense of self-preservation. The numbers on the speedometer continued to lurch upward. Sombra's aroused panting and sighing intensified as the engine's power plant whirred, feeding more and more energy to the hover coils.

"Yes... Yes, Jesse... Ah!" she murmured softly at first but her voice grew increasingly nymphomanical. "Fuck me, fuck me, Jesse, yes, YES. Ugh!" Jesse continued in a dutiful unenthusiastic spirit but Sombra seemed to be responding quite well. Soon her chest was heaving from her sharp breaths as she approached orgasm. He nervously watched the steering wheel vibrate in her hand as he worked. One hand was probably not enough to keep the car under control. "I'm—I'm gonna... I'm... it's too much."

"Sombra, we got company!" McCree shouted nervously as he witnessed Hana's pink robot approach in the rear view mirror.

Fusion blaster shots ricocheted off the car but that only seemed to turn Sombra on more.

"I... I feel like God, Jesse. I... I want to die like this, it's so good..." she moaned ecstatically between her panting breaths.

"You wanna _what?_ Oh, hell no!" shouted McCree pulling his hand up.

Sombra caught it and held it in place with her thighs as she shuddered and craned her neck, all the while keeping one eye on the road. Finally, she couldn't hold it back, she let out a long orgasmic moan over the sound of the roaring engine as the car peaked reaching its top speed of 300 mph.

The airport exit was just ahead. She decelerated and her pleasureful panting slowed. She swallowed and fixed her now slightly frazzled hair with a somewhat bewildered look before finally turning her attention to driving.

"No shit, I think I want to marry this car," she said in a subdued tone, rubbing her pelvis into the seat, "I feel kind of fucked up..."

McCree retrieved his hand from betwixt Sombra's legs with a disapproving grunt.

"Can you concentrate?! We got a Korean fighter robot on our tail!"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Sombra as she shifted herself up to steer with her knees. She laughed to herself nervously as she muttered, "I don't think I can program right now." She shook away her coital brain fog and typed on her haptic keyboard.

"Jesus Christ..." McCree cursed, leaning over to hold the wheel in place as the car began to drift into the next lane.

Hana barreled after the unimaginably fast and expensive sports car at breakneck speed with death in her eyes. When she caught Sombra, she'd break her. Suddenly, her mech's UI flashed a warning sign in front of her face: _Catastrophic System Error, Initiating Kernel Panic_.

"What the fuck?!" she cursed in Korean. "Uh oh..."

The mech's booster rockets deactivated and she immediately lost altitude. The highway pavement met with its robotic feet causing her to barrel forward into a flailing pink comet of destruction.

As Sombra slowed down to take her exit she watched the pink robot skip against the pavement a few times like a stone then explode ahead of her.

"That's funny," muttered Sombra to herself, "it should have ejected her."

With a loud thud, a pissed off Korean girl impacted with the hood of Sombra's sports car, smashing her front end and forcing her to pull to the side and stop. At first Hana was fearful but then she realized where she was and who was looking back at her through the shattered windshield.

Sombra popped open the gull wing door and leaned out.

"Are you like OK, _mija_?" she asked with uncharacteristic concern.

"YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" Hana wailed.

She scrambled off the hood of the car and dragged Sombra onto the dust and gravel of the roadside.

"Yeah, yeah, you can just fuck up my shit, its cool."

"I HATE YOU!"

Hana began to scream like a banshee as she repeatedly kicked Sombra in the ribs. Sombra, however, didn't seem to mind as she lay out in the gravel.

"Hey, Sombra," called McCree wiping his left hand on his pants as he got out of the car, "how am I gettin' the rest of the way?"

"I dunno, Muh Cree, I don't think I've felt sexually satisfied like this in my life so let me have this, OK? He's at terminal 3, gate E8."

Hana picked up a nearby plastic traffic drum with a scream then threw it at Sombra as she lay placidly on the ground. It bounced off her uselessly sending Hana's rage soaring yet higher.

McCree heard the whinny of a nearby horse and his ears perked up. A cowboy impersonator was struggling with a spooked horse on the side of the road. It had become frightened from the crash and noise from Sombra's car.

Jesse fixed his hat and approached the foundering cowboy.

"Lemme take it from here, partner," said McCree stepping between him and the horse.

He took the reins and looked the creature in the eye in a relaxed confident way he'd done since he was a boy. At first it neighed and tried to twist its neck away but in a calm voice Jesse began to sing in his best Johnny Cash impersonation. He didn't have much time.

" _They'll probably take that word out of it / At my door the leaves are falling / A cold wild wind will come / Sweethearts walk by together / And I still miss someone..._ " Jesse sang as Hana wailed on Sombra to the sound of approaching police sirens and thundering hotrods.

The fearful animal huffed and snorted at the commotion but slowly calmed at the sound of McCree's voice and became gentle.

The cowboy regarded McCree in wonderment.

"Wow, I've only seen that in movies. The only way to calm ol' Vanderbilt here is to just give up on trying to ride him... Hey, what are you doing?"

"Just takin' him for a little spin..." said McCree mounting the horse. "Yah!" he dug in his spurs and he was off.

"God damn it!" the poor fellow shouted, tossing his hat to the ground.

* * *

McCree bounded inexorably through the airport on horseback trailed by stumbling cavalcade of TSA agents, police officers and greasers.

Hanzo, finally dressed in sensible casual clothing, stood in line preparing to board his flight to Hanamura. Suddenly, the waiting passengers gasped as the source of the commotion ahead came into view.

"Han!" McCree shouted.

Hanzo had just given his ticket to the attendant. He turned in time to see Jesse approaching heroically on his sputtering war horse as passengers desperately tried to get out of his way.

"Jesse?! I... how did—?"

Hanzo was at a loss for words as Jesse dismounted in front of him. He approached his former lover confidently but not without betraying a hint of embarrassment and alarm. He'd definitely made a mess again. The stumbling security personnel and greasers were already catching up.

"I wanted to say..." Jesse started after exhaling nervously. "I didn't say it before, an' I don't know why because I don't have a habit of complicating things... except with you, I guess."

Hanzo ascertained his surroundings according to some samurai instinct, detecting the greasers closing in and the fury behind them, however, he kept his eyes trained on Jesse.

"Jesse..."

The greasers drew their knives and guns in anticipation as they encircled them. Johnny was at their head, stepping forward and drawing his gun to Jesse's temple.

"These are ya' last words brokebutt mountain," he taunted as he furiously chewed his gum, "better make 'em sweet."

"I may as well say it since I didn't before..." Jesse continued as if Johnny and the greasers weren't there, as if the world wasn't there.

There was the sound of automatic weapons cocking as police took up positions around them and the greasers. TSA officials began to clear the terminal of civilians.

"All of you, hands on the ground!" shouted a police officer brusquely.

Jesse stepped closer to Hanzo.

"I love you," he finally said in all its simplicity.

Hanzo was given pause. He blinked in astonishment as the sense of the words hit him and coursed through his mind and body.

"You are an obsessive and impetuous man," he finally replied with a frown.

"I know."

"This is utterly absurd and unhealthy. Not only that, its wrong. It goes against everything we talked about. How did you even find me?"

"Now, I know—"

Hanzo interrupted. "Any sane person would throw you out and let you wallow in self-destruction..." he continued then bit his lip, "but, foolishly... I love you."

Hanzo grabbed his hands and dropped his ticket. In a rush, McCree felt Hanzo's soft lips on his own and he preceded to have the hottest kiss of his entire life. They embraced and the kiss quickly grew passionate and desperate, they were starved of each other and knew they didn't have much time. The cops and greasers exchanged nervy glances as the kiss continued unperturbed by their presence.

Their glances grew into a silent communication. Johnny shrugged at a cop, keeping his gun held to Jesse's head as the couple's romance unfolded in front of him. The cops exchanged amongst themselves before the cop nodded back in return. Johnny drew his pistol back under the auspice of their new temporary alliance and, in an instant, Jesse's world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this is some belated McSombra content? I dunno. Anyways, this fic is finally coming to its close with the next chapter and I can say I finished something.


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm so fine with this," said Sombra lolling her head towards McCree. They sat next to each other in a jail cell packed with bored and disgruntled greasers. Sombra, McCree guessed, was still satisfied from her vehicular sexual experience.

"Yep, I reckon in a weird way, I'm right where I belong," he humphed, resting the top of his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Punishment for your passion, how appropriate," noted Hanzo.

He was seated meditating next to Jesse in a sieza. For a moment, McCree thought back to the moments before he was knocked out and smiled. He almost felt he could die happy.

"You seemed pretty into it to me, Han," Jesse noted as he cast him a sidelong look.

Hana sat across from them gripping Johnny's forearm, glaring at Sombra with a burning hatred.

"Ey, Hana, baby," muttered Johnny nervously, "I got a girlfriend, we were like a one time thing, ya know?"

"Well, she's gonna know about me real soon," Hana growled.

Hana's other partner from last night sighed melancholically to himself. Why didn't she want him?

Sombra chuckled at the absurd exchange. It never failed to amuse her how predictable people could be.

"Shut up!" Hana barked. "What? Are you gonna steal him from me too?!"

Sombra shook her head at Hana dismissively, not even bothering to expend the energy to scoff. Hana felt her hair bristle as she looked into Sombra's cool indifferent eyes, it unnerved her to her core that Sombra really, truly, deeply did not care about her. At that moment, a lardy officious looking police officer stepped to the cell door and unlocked it with a jangle of his keys.

"Alright, you greaser scum, get outta here," he barked, "one Mr. Yoon was nice enough to cover yer bails." The occupants stood and stretched then moped out of the cell. "'Cept you, gunsel. You're staying right there."

"Man, the things I been called in this dang city. Are ya'll racist against cowboys?"

"If he is not going than I refuse to leave," asserted Hanzo as he reseated himself.

McCree's mind suddenly leaped. What could that mean? Did his irrational stunt actually win him over?

"Suit yourself," scoffed the guard. He took pause and eyed Sombra suspiciously. "Ey, purple, how did you get in here? You're not on my list."

Sombra lazily turned her made-up eyes towards the annoying cop. "Don't worry about it," she replied rudely, raising her voice for emphasis.

He humphed. "Oh yeah? Well then you can just stay in there."

"Bye, Sombra. I hope you like rotting in jail," Hana taunted as she left, sticking out her tongue and giving Sombra a very offensive Korean hand gesture.

Soon the cell was emptied with the exception of Hanzo, McCree and Sombra.

"She's gay for me, it's making her twisted," Sombra boasted with a grin.

McCree simply shook his head.

"So, I'm assuming you have a plan," he said under his breath.

"No, not really," Sombra replied, scratching herself nonchalantly. "But we can get out of here whenever we want."

Hanzo opened one eye and regarded the mysterious hacker suspiciously. "How do you know this woman, Jesse?"

"We go back a ways," he replied cryptically, "we got a habit of bailin' each other out now and again."

"I see..."

McCree peered through the bars down the hall. No sign of any cops.

"Erm, now's good," Jesse offered.

Hanzo nodded in agreement. Sombra stood. "Here take one of these," she stated, handing them each a translocator. "Now just press this button and throw it outside," she said with a smile.

With a shrug, McCree tossed the device through the bars. _Fwoosh!_ He materialized outside the cell and exhaled a quick breath. "Well, I'll be damned. Try it, Han."

Hanzo regarded his translocator to find the button then tossed it with a flick of the wrist. In an instant he was outside. Sombra followed. She flashed in regarding her hand as she flexed it.

"Pretty good, huh?" she said looking up.

"Impressive," Hanzo begrudgingly admitted, handing her back the device.

She gazed past them down the hall with a deadly look in her eyes. Sombra was planning her moves.

"Stay here while I clear the way," she said passing her hand over her face.

She was gone.

McCree and Hanzo exchanged ambiguous glances as Sombra invisibly made short work of the cops ahead. Soon, however, the pair were holding hands and embracing each other to the muffled shouts of Sombra's victims.

"Of course, this changes nothing," muttered Hanzo over the whimpers of a cop begging for his life, "I'll have to sort this all out with Jun."

"Yeah, I reckon so."

Hanzo sighed as he reconciled with the long list of repercussions he'd have to manage after this fiasco in his head. "And I'll have to get back to Japan without raising suspicion."

McCree smirked. "It's out of her way, but I got an old connection can hook you up."

"Indeed," Hanzo replied, "and no doubt I'll have to remain unseen for a couple of days."

The cowboy cleared his throat as he processed what Hanzo was insinuating.

"You can stay, uh..." McCree started, "I mean, I know an abandoned safe house in West Texas you can lay low. Never used it myself... don't know what kinda state it's in..."

Hanzo knew the cowboy well enough to know he was lying to save face and gave him a coy smile. Suddenly, Sombra uncloaked behind the pair. She rubbed the splatter of blood on her neck off on her hand as they turned to her. She gave them a stern look. "Its clear. Lets move..."

* * *

Hanzo and McCree sat next to each other with their arms folded awkwardly. They were anxious from the delay as they waited in the captured Talon Predator listening to Tracer's muffled but increasingly loud coital cries from the bathroom. Jesse sighed and rested his head on Hanzo's lap as they carried on.

"Your friend is quite peculiar," Hanzo noted, placing his hand on Jesse's head.

"I don't know how she does this..."

McCree checked his watch, it was now significantly later than he intended to leave. Cops and greasers could be all over them in an instant if they found out where they were.

Suddenly, the door rattled repeatedly accompanied by the sound of Tracer approaching orgasm. Jesse actively wondered what the hell Sombra was doing to Tracer and how exactly, anatomically speaking, she could be having sex against a door like that.

Hanzo, being a proprietous man, cleared his throat and dismissed himself saying, "I'll wait outside."

McCree lifted his head and let him up.

"Yeah, why don't I tell them to hurry that along," he said fixing his hat.

He moseyed to the bathroom door with a grimace as Hanzo stepped outside for some air. He raised his hand to knock when the cries and rattling stopped. There was some shuffling. He lowered his hand and the door popped open. Tracer emerged, wiggling back into her flight suit, her freckled face was flush from sex.

"Jesse, luv!" she said, startled to see him. She tapped the tips of her index fingers together as she frantically explained. "Got a bit side tracked... hope I wasn't long... or loud. Its just been so long, Jesse. I mean, since Emily—"

"What in tarnation are you goin' on for?!" McCree interrupted, "We gotta go!"

"Um, right... OK..." Tracer mumbled to herself, collecting herself before jogging up to the cockpit.

"Got dang!" cursed McCree taking off his hat and putting it back on in frustration. He'd never been mad at Tracer for anything in his life until Sombra had at her. The hacker stepped out with a confident smirk. McCree grunted at her in annoyance. "What's with you? How do you do it?"

"Huh?" asked Sombra, looking genuinely surprised before her smirk returned. "Oh, you mean Tracer? We're both gay."

"Yeah, I know that!" replied McCree impatiently, "but she was ready to rip you all kinds of new ones not three days ago, n' now you're—," he made a number of erratic hand gestures, "—all doin' it with each other!"

Sombra looked sidelong at him with a coy smile as the aircraft's turbofans kicked on and slowly began to pick up speed.

"Yeah, it's pretty crazy right?" she said then flicked her long flexible tongue at him.

He recoiled. "That thing is nasty."

"Aw, _pobrecito_ ," said Sombra adopting a fake sorry tone, "you'd like it if you let me go down on you."

"No!"

"Come on! It would feel the same as if a guy did it. I can do it right now," she said grabbing for his junk, "Hanzo will never find out."

"Dang it, Sombra!" He blocked her hand and quickly shot a glance at Hanzo to see if he'd noticed. He turned back to Sombra "What's with you? You just got laid not 5 seconds ago!"

"I know, my wheels are spinning..." she replied in a seductive tone, "I'm really good, Jesse. You have no idea."

"Girl, you got absolutely no subtlety."

Sombra scowled and dropped the act when she saw Jesse wasn't going to go for it.

"Fine," she said giving him a stink eye, "one day I'll just do it while you're sleeping and you won't want me to stop."

"Then yer sleepin' outside, sister," said McCree. "Besides, for the next few days I got company, so you gotta find yerself somewheres else," he continued, sounding fairly pleased with himself.

"Yeah, yeah, _pendejo_. But how long's it going to last?" she said blowing him off. McCree simply shrugged, he honestly had no idea. "Whatever, go get your boyfriend," she said nodding sideways towards Hanzo.

McCree stepped outside as he lit a cigarette, taking Hanzo's side while the aircraft prepared for liftoff. Together they gazed stoically across the desert at the setting sun. Hanzo was still an enigma to him, capricious as ever, and McCree knew in the back of his mind that he could very well hurt him again. But Jesse'd done and said everything he'd meant to and that, he supposed, would make it easier to let him go if the time came.

Hanzo wrapped his arm around Jesse's waist and an anxious thought went though his head: yes, all that unless he made a fool of himself again and he could almost count on that. He brought Hanzo close and kissed his forehead. Again McCree felt his brain reconfiguring as Hanzo's familiar scent crept into his nose, the sense hit his body that he was trapped and free at the same time, destined to make a wreck of it all again.

Yep, it would be a bumpy ride.

"What are you thinking?" asked Hanzo.

"Oh, you know," replied McCree somewhat wistfully.

"Say it."

"That this life is never uneventful."

Hanzo scoffed. "Stereotypical cowboy..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin. Hope you liked it. I love comments and kudos, especially comments.
> 
> Props to anyone who figured out Jenny was in fact Jenny Ranger from that Chinese Overwatch knock-off.


End file.
